/«* 


THE   GUN-BOAT  SERIES. 


FRANK,  THE  YOUNG  NATURALIST, 

y 

FRANK    ON    A   GUN-BOAT, 
'    FRANK    IN    THE    WOODS, 
^2>  FRANK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

i  "FRANK  BEFORE  VICKSBURG, 

FRANK  ON  THE  LOWER  MISSISSIPPL 


Price,  $1.25  per  volume,  or  $7.50  per  set,  in  a  neat  box, 

forming  a  most  excellent  and  interesting 

LIBRARY  FOR  YOUNQ  FOLKS. 


THE    GUN- BO  AT  SERIES. 


Jrank 


ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


BY 

HARRY    CASTLEMON, 

"THE  GUN-BOAT  BOY." 


C 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VV\ 


CINCINNATI: 
R.  W.  CARROLL  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

117  WEST  FOURTH  STREET. 

1869. 


Entered  according  to  A&  of  Congress,  in  the  years  1868,  by 

R.  W.  CARROLL  &  Co., 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Distrid  Court  of  the  United  States,  fia- 
the  Southern  District  of  Ohio. 

STEREOTYPED  AT  THE  FBANKL1N   TYPE  FOUJJDBY,   CINCINNATI. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Ho  FOR  THE  WEST 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  WAGON  TRAIN  .........................................................     18 

CHAPTER  III. 
ANTELOPE  HUNTING  ........................................................    29 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BEST  TRAPPER  ON  THE  PRAIRIE  ..................................     37 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  FIGHT  WITH  THE  INDIANS  ..............................................     56 

CHAPTER  VI. 
LOST  ON  THE  PRAIRIE  ......................................................     73 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE  ..........................................     85 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  "OLE  BAR'S  HOLE"  .................................................  103 

CHAPTER  IX. 
ARCHIE'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  GRIZZLY  ..............................  114 

(vii) 


M71395 


Till  .  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X.  PAG]B 

HANGING  A  BEAR 124 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  BUFFALO  HUNT 134 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  NIGHT  AMONG  THE  WOLVES 147 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 157 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  TRADER'S  EXPEDITION 171 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  OUTLAW'S  ESCAPE 183 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  KING  OF  THE  DROVE 198 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
How  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HOHSK 209 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
OLD  BOB'S  ADVENTURE 222 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
HOMEWARD  BOUND 237 


FRANK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER  -I. 

)0  for  the  I 


OR  two  months  after  their  return 
from  their  hunting  expedition  in 
"the  woods,"  Frank  and  Archie 
talked  of  nothing  but  the  incidents 
that  had  transpired  during  their  visit 
at  the  trapper's  cabin.  The  partic- 
ulars of  Frank's  desperate  fight  with 
the  moose  had  become  known  throughout  the  vil- 
lage, and  the  "Young  Naturalist"  enjoyed  an 
enviable  reputation  as  a  hunter.  He  was  obliged 
to  relate  his  adventures  over  and  over  again, 
until  one  day  his  thoughts  and  conversation  were 
turned  into  a  new  channel  by  the  arrival  of  an 
uncle,  who  had  just  returned  from  California. 


10  FRANK    ON   THE   PKAIRIE. 

Uncle  James  had  been  absent  from  home  nearly 
ten  years,  and  during  most  of  that  time  had  lived 
in  the  mines.  Although  the  boys  had  not  seen 
him  since  they  were  six  years  old,  and  of  course 
could  not  remember  him,  they  were  soon  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  each  other.  Uncle  James  had 
can  in^xliftus-tutle  fund  of  stories ;  he  had  crossed 
"the  plains, "fought -the  Indians,  was  accustomed  to 
iSJgreilQE  bj^danget  ajifl  excitement,  and  had  such  an 
easy  way  of  telling  his  adventures,  that  the  boys 
never  grew  tired  of  listening  to  them.  The  day 
after  his  arrival  he  visited  the  museum,  gazed  in 
genuine  wonder  at  the  numerous  specimens  of  his 
nephews'  handiwork,  and  listened  to  the  descrip- 
tions of  their  hunting  expeditions  with  as  much 
interest  as  though  he  had  been  a  boy  himself. 
Then  he  engaged  in  hunting  with  them,  and  en- 
tered into  the  sport  with  all  the  reckless  eagerness 
of  youth. 

The  winter  was  passed  in  this  way,  and  when 

*  J7 

spring  returned,  Uncle  James  began  to  talk  of 
returning  to  California  to  settle  up  his  business. 
He  had  become  attached  to  life  in  the  mines,  but 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  leaving  his  rela- 
tives again.  The  quiet  comforts  he  had  enjoyed 


HO   FOR  THE   WEST.  11 

at  the   cottage  he  thought  were  better  than  the 

i 
rough  life  and  hard  fare  to  which  he  had  been 

accustomed  for  the  last  ten  years.  He  had  left 
his  business,  however,  in  an  unsettled  state,  and, 
as  soon  as  he  could  "close  it  up,"  would  re- 
turn and  take  up  his  abode  in  Lawrence.  The 
cousins  regretted  that  the  parting  time  was  so 
near,  for  they  looked  upon  their  relative  as  the 
very  pattern  of  an  uncle,  but  consoled  themselves 
by  looking  forward  to  the  coming  winter,  when  he 
would  be  settled  as  a  permanent  inmate  of  the 
cottage. 

"I  say,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Archie  one  day,  as 
he  burst  into  the  study,  where  his  cousin  was  en- 
gaged in  cleaning  his  gun  preparatory  to  a  musk- 
rat  hunt,  "  there  's  something  in  the  wind.  Just 
now,  as  I  came  through  the  sitting-room,  I  sur- 
prised our  folks  and  Uncle  James  talking  very 
earnestly  about  something.  But  they  stopped  as 
soon  as  I  came  in,  and,  as  that  was  a  gentle  hint 
that  they  did  n't  want  me  to  know  any  thing  about 
it,  I  came  out.  There's  something  up,  I  tell 
you." 

"  It 's  about  uncle's  business,  I  suppose,"  re- 
plied Frank.  But  if  that  was  the  subject  of  the 


12  FRANK  ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

conversation,  Archie  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
his  affairs  must  be  in  a  very  unsettled  state,  for 
when  they  returned  from  their  hunt  that  night 
the  same  mysterious  conversation  was  going  on 
again.  It  ceased,  however,  as  the  boys  entered 
the  room,  which  made  Archie  more  firm  in  his  be- 
lief than  ever  that  there  was  "  something  up." 

The  next  morning,  at  the  breakfast-table,  Ar- 
chie's father  announced  his  intention  of  returning 
to  Portland  at  once,  as  his  business  needed  his 
attention ;  and,  turning  to  the  boys,  inquired : 

"  Well,  have  you  had  hunting  enough  this  win- 
ter to  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  do  n't  want  to  go  across 
the  plains  with  your  Uncle  James?" 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Archie,  springing  to  his 
feet,  and  upsetting  his  coffee-cup.  "  Did  you  say 
we  might  go?" 

"Be  a  little  more  careful,  Archie,"  said  his 
father.  "No,  I  did  not  say  so." 

"Well,  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing,"  thought 
Archie,  "  for  father  never  would  have  said  a  word 
about  it  if  he  wasn't  intending  to  let  us  go.  I 
knew  there  was  something  up." 


HO   FOR  THE   WEST.  13 

We  need  not  stop  to  repeat  the  conversation 
that  followed.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Uncle  James, 
having  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  the 
village  as  soon  as  he  could  settle  up  his  business, 
had  asked  permission  for  his  nephews  to  accom- 
pany him  across  the  plains.  Their  parents, 
thinking  of  the  fight  with  the  moose,  and  knowing 
the  reckless  spirit  of  the  boys,  had  at  first  ob- 
jected. But  Uncle  James,  promising  to  keep  a 
watchful  eye  on  them,  had,  after  considerable  ar- 
gument, carried  the  day,  and  it  was  finally  decided 
that  the  boys  could  go. 

"But  remember,"  said  Mr.  Winters,  "you  are 
to  be  governed  entirely  by  Uncle  James ;  for,  if 
you  have  no  one  to  take  care  of  you,  you  will  be 
in  more  fights  with  bears  and  panthers." 

The  boys  readily  promised  obedience,  and, 
hardly  waiting  to  finish  their  breakfast,  went  into 
the  study  to  talk  over  their  plans. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  there  was  something  up?" 
said  Archie,  as  soon  as  they  had  closed  the  door. 
"We'll  have  a  hunt  now  that  will  throw  all  our 
former  hunting  expeditions  in  the  shade." 

As  soon  as  their  excitement  had  somewhat 
abated,  they  remembered  -that  Dick  Lewis,  the 


14  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

trapper,  had  told  them  that  it  was  his  intention  to 
start  for  the  prairie  in  the  spring.  If  he  had  not 
already  gone,  would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  to  se- 
cure his  company?  He  knew  all  about  the  prairie, 
and  might  be  of  service  to  them.  They  laid  the 
matter  before  Uncle  James,  who,  without  hesita- 
tion, pronounced  it  an  excellent  idea.  "For," 
said  he,  "  we  are  in  no  hurry.  Instead  of  going 
by  stage,  we  will  buy  a  wagon  and  a  span  of 
mules  and  take  our  time.  If  we  do  n't  happen  to 
fall  in  with  a  train,  we  shall,  no  doubt,  want  a 
guide."  As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  ice  had  left, 
the  creek  so  that  it  could  be  traveled  with  a  boat, 
Uncle  James  accompanied  the  boys  to  the  trap- 
per's cabin. 

Dick  met  them  at  the  door,  and  greeted  them 
with  a  grasp  so  hearty,  that  they  all  felt  its  effects 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward. 

"I  ain't  gone  yet,"  said  he;  "but  it  won't  bo 
long  afore  I  see  the  prairy  onct  more." 

"  Well,  Dick,"  said  Frank,  "  we  're  going,  too, 
and  want  you  to  go  with  us." 

The  trapper  and  his  brother  opened  their  eyes 
wide  with  astonishment,  but  Uncle  James  explained, 
and  ended  by  offering  to  pay  the  trapper's  ex- 


HO   FOR  THE   WEST.       ,  15 

penses  if  he  would  accompany  them.  After  a  few 
moments'  consideration,  he  accepted  the  proposi- 
tion, saying: 

"  I  have  tuk  to  the  youngsters  mightily.  They  're 
gritty  fellers,  an'  I  should  like  to  show  'em  a  bit 
of  prairy  life." 

Uncle  James  and  the  boys  remained  at  the 
cabin  nearly  a  week,  during  which  their  plans 
were  all  determined  upon,  and,  when  they  arrived 
at  home,  they  at  once  commenced  preparations 
for  their  journey.  Their  double-barreled  shot- 
guns were  oiled,  and  put  carefully  away.  They 
were  very  efficient  weapons  among  small  game, 
but  Uncle  James  said  they  were  not  in  the  habit 
of  using  "pop-guns"  on  the  prairie;  they  would 
purchase  their  fire-arms  and  other  necessary  weap- 
ons at  St.  Louis. 

The  first  of  June — the  time  set  for  the  start — 
at  length  arrived,  and  with  it  came  the  trapper, 
accompanied  by  his  dog.  Dick  carried  his  long 
rifle  on  his  shoulder,  his  powder-horn  and  bullet- 
pouch  at  his  side,  and  a  knapsack,  containing  a 
change  of  clothes  and  other  necessary  articles,  at 
his  back.  He  had  evidently  bestowed  more  than 
usual  care  upon  his  toilet ;  his  suit  of  buckskin 


16  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

was  entirely  new,  and  even  his  rifle  seemed  to 
have  received  a  thorough  rubbing  and  cleaning 
preparatory  to  its  introduction  into  civilized  life. 
Frank  and  Archie  meeting  him  at  the  door,  re- 
lieved him  of  his  rifle  and  pack,  and  conducted  him 
into  the  house.  But  here  the  trapper  was  sadly 
out  of  place.  He  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  chair, 
and  was  constantly  changing  the  position  of  his 
feet,  and  looking  down  at  the  rich  carpet,  as  if  he 
could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  made  to  walk 
upon.  The  inmates  of  the  cottage  used  every  ex- 
ertion in  their  power  to  make  him  feel  at  his  ease, 
and,  to  some  extent,  succeeded;  but  he  breathed 
much  more  freely  when  the  farewells  had  been 
said,  and  the  party  was  on  its  way  to  the  wharf.. 
In  due  time  they  arrived  at  Portland,  where  they 
remained  nearly  a  week.  Here  the  trapper  again 
found  himself  in  hot  water.  He  was  installed  in 
a  large,  airy  room  in  Mr.  Winter's  elegant  resi- 
dence; but  he  would  much  rather  have  been  as- 
signed quarters  among  the  trees  in  the  yard.  The 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  city  were  new  to  him, 
and  at  every  corner  he  found  something  to  wonder 
at.  When  on  the  street,  he  was  continually  get? 
ting  in  somebody's  way,  or  being  separated  from 


HO   FOR   THE   WEST.  17 

his  companions,  who  found  it  necessary  to  keep  a 
vigilant  watch  over  him.  But  it  was  on  the  train 
that  his  astonishment  reached  its  height.  He  had 
never  before  traveled  in  the  cars,  and,  as  they 
thundered  away,  going  faster  and  faster  as  they 
left  the  city  behind,  the  trapper  began  to  clutch 
his  seat,  and  to  look  wistfully  out  the  window  at 
the  woods,  which  appeared  to  be  dancing  by,  as 
if  he  never  expected  to  be  permitted  to  enter  his 
natural  element  again.  He  would  have  preferred 
to  "foot  it,"  as  he  remarked,  and,  when  at  last 
they  reached  St.  Joseph,  he  drew  a  long  breath 
of  relief,  mentally  resolving  that  he  would  never 
again  tempt  destruction  by  traveling  either  on  a 
steamboat  or  railroad  car. 

It  was  midnight  when  they  reached  the  hotel. 
Being  very  much  fatigued  with  their  long  jour- 
ney, they  at  once  secured  rooms  and  retired,  and 
were  soon  fast  asleep. 
2 


18  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER    II. 


N  awaking  the  next  morning,  the 
boys  found  themselves  surrounded 
bj  new  scenes.  While  they  were 
dressing,  they  looked  out  at  the  win- 
dow, and  obtained  their  first  view  of  a 
wagon  train,  which  was  just  starting 
out  for  the  prairie.  The  wagons  were 
protected  by  canvas  covers,  some  drawn  by  oxen, 
others  by  mules,  and  the  entire  train  being  ac- 
companied by  men  both  on  foot  and  on  horseback. 
Fat,  sleek  cows  followed  meekly  after  the  wagons, 
from  behind  whose  covering  peeped  the  faces  of 
women  and  children  —  the  families  of  the  hardy 
pioneers  now  on  their  way  to  find  new  homes  amid 
the  solitude  of  that  western  region. 

The  boys  watched  the  train  until  it  disappeared, 
and  then  went  down  stairs  to  get  their  breakfast. 


THE   WAGON   TRAIN.  19 

Uncle  James  was  not  to  be  found.  In  fact,  ever 
since  leaving  Portland,  he  seemed  to  have  forgot- 
ten his  promise  to  his  brother,  for  he  never 
bothered  his  head  about  his  nephews.  It  is  true, 
he  had  watched  them  rather  closely  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  journey,  but  soon  discovered  that  they 
were  fully  capable  of  taking  care  of  themselves 
and  the  trapper  besides.  He  did  not  make  his 
appearance  until  nearly  two  hours  after  the  boys 
had  finished  their  breakfast,  and  then  he  rode  up 
to  the  hotel  mounted  on  a  large,  raw-boned,  ugly- 
looking  horse.  He  was  followed  by  the  trapper, 
who  was  seated  in  a  covered  wagon,  drawn  by  a 
span  of  mules,  while  behind  the  wagon  were  two 
more  horses,  saddled  and  bridled. 

"Now,  then,  boys,"  said  Uncle  James,  as  he 
dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  post,  "  where  's 
your  baggage  ?  We  're  going  with  that  train  that 
went  out  this  morning." 

"  An'  here,  youngsters,"  exclaimed  Dick,  as  he 
climbed  down  out  of  his  wagon,  "come  an'  take 
your  pick  of  these  two  bosses.  This  one,"  he  con- 
tinued, pointing  to  a  small,  gray  horse,  which  stood 
impatiently  pawing  the  ground  and  tossing  his 
head — "  this  feller  is  young  and  foolish  yet.  He 


20  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIBIE. 

don't  know  nothin'  'bout  the  prairy  or  buffalcr 
huntin';  an'  if  whoever  gets  him  should  under- 
take to  shoot  a  rifle  while  on  his  back,  he  would 
land  him  on  the  ground  quicker  nor  lightnin'.  I 
'spect  1^  shall  have  to  larn  him  a  few  lessons.  But 
this  one" — laying  his  hand  on  the  other  horse, 
which  stood  with  his  head  down  and  his  eyes  closed, 
as  if  almost  asleep — "  he  's  an  ole  buffaler  hunter. 
The  feller  that  your  uncle  bought  him  of  has  jest 
come  in  from  the  mountains.  He  can  travel 
wusser  nor  a  steamboat  if  you  want  him  to,  an* 
you  can  leave  him  on  the  prairy  any  whar  an'  find 
him  when  you  come  back.  Now,  youngster,"  he 
added,  turning  to  Frank,  "  which  '11  you  have  ?  " 

"I  have  no  choice,"  replied  Frank.  "Which 
one  do  you  want,  Archie  ?  " 

"Well,"  replied  the  latter,  "I'd  rather  have  the 
buffalo  hunter.  He  looks  as  though  he  had  n't 
spirit  enough  to  throw  a  fellow  off,  but  that  gray 
looks  rather  vicious." 

"Wai,  then,  that's  settled,"  said  the  trapper; 
"  so  fetch  on  your  plunder,  an'  let 's  be  movin'  to 
onct." 

Their  baggage,  which  consisted  of  three  trunks — 
small,  handy  affairs,  capable  of  holding  a  consider- 


THE  WAGON  TRAIN.  21 

able  quantity  of  clothing,  but  not  requiring  much 
space — was  stowed  away  in  the  wagon.  When 
Uncle  James  had  paid  their  bill  at  the  hotel,  they 
mounted  their  horses,  and  the  trapper,  who  now 
began  to  feel  more  at  home,  took  his  seat  in  the 
wagon,  and  drove  after  the  train.  Archie  soon 
began  to  think  that  he  had  shown  considerable 
judgment  in  the  selection  of  his  horse,  for  they 
had  not  gone  far  before  the  gray  began  to  show 
his  temper.  After  making  several  attempts  to 
turn  his  head  toward  home — a  proceeding  which 
Frank  successfully  resisted — he  began  to  dance 
from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other,  and  ended 
by  endeavoring  to  throw  his  rider  over  his  head; 
but  the  huge  Spanish  saddle,  with  its  high  front 
and  back,  afforded  him  a  secure  seat;  and  after 
receiving  a  few  sharp  thrusts  from  Frank's  spurs, 
the  gray  quietly  took  his  place  by  the  side  of 
Archie's  horse,  and  walked  along  as  orderly  and 
gentle  as  could  be  wished. 

The  trapper,  who  was  now  the  chief  man  of  the 
party,  had  superintended  the  buying  of  their  outfit, 
and,  although  it  was  a  simple  one,  they  were  still 
well  provided  with  every  necessary  article.  The 
boys  were  dressed  in  complete  suits  of  blue  jeans, 


22  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

an  article  that  will  resist  wear  and  dirt  to  the  last 
extremity,  broad-brimmed  hats,  and  heavy  horse- 
man's boots,  the  heels  of  which  were  armed  with 
spurs. 

Their  weapons,  which  were  stowed  away  in  the 
wagon,  consisted  of  a  brace  of  revolvers  and  a  hunt- 
ing-knife each,  and  Archie  owned  a  short  breech- 
loading  rifle,  while  Frank  had  purchased  a  common 
"patch"  rifle.  The  wagon  also  contained  provis- 
ions in  abundance — coffee,  corn  meal,  bacon,  and 
the  like — and  ammunition  for  their  weapons. 
Their  appearance  would  have  created  quite  a  com- 
motion in  the  quiet  little  village  of  Lawrence,  but 
in  St.  Joseph  such  sights  were  by  no  means  un- 
common. Buckskin  was  much  more  plenty  than 
broadcloth,  and  the  people  who  passed  them  on 
the  streets  scarcely  noticed  them. 

At  length,  just  before  dark,  they  overtook  the 
train,  which  had  stopped  for  the  night.  The  wag- 
ons were  drawn  up  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and 
altogether  the  camp  presented  a  scene  that  was 
a  pleasant  one  to  men  wearied  with  their  day's 
journey.  Cattle  were  feeding  quietly  near  the 
wagons,  chickens  cackled  joyously  from  their 
coops,  men  and  women  were  busily  engaged  with 


THE  WAGON  TRAIN.  23 

their  preparations  for  supper,  while  groups  of 
noisy  children  rolled  about  on  the  grass,  filling  the 
camp  with  the  sounds  of  their  merry  laughter. 

The  trapper  drove  on  until  he  found  a  spot  suit- 
able for  their  camp,  and  then  turned  off  the  road 
and  stopped.  He  at  once  began  to  unharness  the 
mules,  while  the  boys,  after  removing  their  sad- 
dles, fastened  their  horses  to  the  wagon  with  a 
long  rope,  and  allowed  them  to  graze.  When  the 
trapper  had  taken  care  of  his  mules,  he  started  a 
fire,  and  soon  a  coffee-pot  was  simmering  and 
sputtering  over  the  flames,  and  several  slices  of 
bacon  were  broiling  on  the  coals.  After  supper, 
the  boys  spread  their  blankets  out  under  the 
wagon,  and,  being  weary  with  their  day's  ride  (for 
it  was  something  new  to  them),  soon  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  when  they  awoke  it  was  just 
daylight.  After  drawing  on  their  boots,  they 
crawled  out  from  under  the  wagon,  and  found  the 
trapper,  standing  with  his  hat  off,  and  his  long 
arms  extended  as  if  about  to  embrace  some  invisi- 
ble object. 

"I  tell  you  what,  youngsters,"  said  he,  as  the 
boys  approached;  "if  this  aint  nat'ral ;  jest  take 
a  sniff  of  that  ar  fresh  air!  Here,"  he  contin- 


24  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

ued,  looking  about  him  with  a  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion— "  here,  I  know  all  'bout  things.  I  'm  to 
hum  now.  Thar  's  nothin'  on  the  prairy  that 
Dick  Lewis  can  't  'count  fur.  But,  youngsters,  I 
would  n't  travel  on  them  ar  steamboats  an'  rail- 
roads ag'in  fur  all  the  beaver  in  the  Missouri 
River.  Every  thing  in  them  big  cities  seemed  to 
say  to  me,  '  Dick,  you  haint  got  no  business  here.' 
Them  black  walls  an'  stone  roads ;  them  rumblin' 
carts  an'  big  stores,  war  sights  I  never  seed  afore, 
an'  I  never  want  to  see  'em  ag'in.  I  know  I  was 
treated  mighty  kind,  an'  all  that ;  but  it  could  n't 
make  me  feel  right.  I  didn't  like  them  streets, 
windin'  an'  twistin'  about,  an'  allers  loosin'  a  fel- 
ler ;  an'  I  was  n't  to  hum.  But  now,  youngsters, 
I  know  what  I  'm  doin'.  Nobody  can 't  lose  Dick 
Lewis  on  the  prairy.  I  know  the  names  of  all  the 
streets  here;  an',  'sides,  I  know  whar  they  all 
lead  to.  An'  as  fur  varmints,  thar  's  none  of  'em 
that  I  haint  trapped  an'  fit.  An'  Injuns !  I  know 
a  leetle  'bout  them,  I  reckon.  It 's  funny  that 
them  ar  city  chaps  don'£  know  nothin'  'bout  what's 
goin'  on  out  here ;  an'  it  shows  that  all  the  larnin' 
in  the  world  aint  got  out  o'  books.  Send  one  of 
'em  here,  an'  I  could  show  him  a  thing  or  two  he 


THE  WAGON  TRAIN.  25 

never  heern  tell  on.  But  I  must  be  gettin'  break- 
fast, 'cause  we  '11  be  off  ag'in  soon ;  an'  on  the 
prairy  every  feller  has  to  look  out  fur  himself. 
You  can 't  pull  a  ring  in  the  wall  here,  an'  have  a 
chap  with  white  huntin'  shirt  an'  morocker  mocca- 
sins on  come  up  an'  say :  '  Did  you  ring,  sir  ? ' 
An'  how  them  ar  fellers  knowed  which  room  to 
come  to  in  them  big  hotels,  is  something  I  can't 
get  through  my  head.  Thar's  no  big  bell  to  call 
a  feller  to  grub  here.  Take  one  of  them  city  chaps 
an'  give  him  a  rifle,  an'  pint  out  over  the  prairy 
an'  tell  him  to  go  an'  hunt  up  his  breakfast,  an* 
how  would  he  come  out  ?  Could  he  travel  by  the 
sun,  or  tell  the  pints  of  the  compass  by  the  stars  ? 
Could  he  lasso  an'  ride  a  wild  mustang,  or  shoot  a 
Injun  plumb  atween  the  eyes  at  two  hundred  an' 
fifty  yards  ?  No  !  I  reckon  not !  Wai,  thar  's  a 
heap  o'  things  I  could  n't  do ;  an'  it  shows  that 
every  man  had  oughter  stick  to  his  own  business. 
It 's  all  owin'  to  a  man's  bringin'  up." 

While  the  trapper  spoke  he  had  been  raking 
together  the  fire  that  had  nearly  gone  out;  and 
having  got  it  fairly  started,  he  began  the  work  of 
getting  breakfast.  The  boys,  after  rolling  up  their 
blankets  and  packing  them  away  in  the  wagon, 


26  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

amused  themselves  in  watching  the  movements  of 
the  emigrants,  who  now  began  their  preparations 
for  their  day's  journey.  By  the  time  Uncle  James 
awoke,  the  trapper  pronounced  their  breakfast 
ready.  After  they  had  done  ample  justice  to  the 
homely  meal  (and  it  was  astonishing  what  an  ap~ 
petite  the  fresh  invigorating  air  of  the  prairie  gave 
them),  the  boys  packed  the  cooking  utensils  away 
in  the  wagon  while  the  trapper  began  to  harness 
the  mules.  This  was  an  undertaking  that  a  less 
experienced  man  would  have  found  to  be  extremely 
hazardous,  for  the  animals  persisted  in  keeping 
their  heels  toward  him,  and  it  was  only  by  skillful 
maneuvering  that  Dick  succeeded  in  getting  them 
hitched  to  the  wagon.  By  the  time  this  was  ac- 
complished, Uncle  James  and  the  boys  had  saddled 
their  horses  and  followed  the  trapper,  who  drove 
off  as  though  he  perfectly  understood  what  he  was 
about,  leaving  the  train  to  follow  at  its  leisure. 

Dick  acted  as  if  he  had  again  found  himself 
among  friends  from  whom  he  had  long  been  sepa- 
rated ;  but  it  was  evident  that  sorrow  was  mingled 
with  his  joy,  for  on  every  side  his  eye  rested  on 
the  improvements  of  civilization.  The  road  was 
lined  with  fine,  well-stocked  farms,  and  the  prairie 


THE   WAGON   TRAIN.  27 

over  which  his  father  had  hunted  the  buffalo  and 
fought  the  Indian,  had  been  turned  up  by  the  plow, 
and  would  soon  be  covered  with  waving  crops.  No 
doubt  the  trapper's  thoughts  wandered  into  the 
future,  for,  as  the  boys  rode  up  beside  the  wagon, 
he  said,  with  something  like  a  sigh : 

"Things  aint  as  they  used  to  be,  youngsters. 
I  can  'member  the  time  when  thar  was  'nt  a  fence 
within  miles  of  here,  an'  a  feller  could  go  out  an' 
knock  over  a  buffaler  fur  breakfast  jest  as  easy  as 
that  farmer  over  thar  could  find  one  of  his  sheep. 
But  the  ax  an'  plow  have  made  bad  work  with  a 
fine  country,  the  buffaler  an'  Injun  have  been 
pushed  back  t' wards  the  mountains,  an'  it  won't  be 
long  afore  thar  '11  be  no  room  fur  sich  as  me ;  an' 
we  won't  be  missed  neither,  'cause  when  the  buffaler 
an7  beaver  are  gone  thar  '11  be  nothin'  fur  us  to  do. 
These  farms  will  keep  pushin'  out  all  the  while ; 
an'  when  folks,  sittin'  in  their  snug  houses  beside 
their  warm  fires,  hear  tell  of  the  Injuns  that  onst 
owned  this  country,  nobody  will  ever  think  that 
sich  fellers  as  me  an'  Bill  Lawson  an'  ole  Bob 
Kelly  ever  lived.  If  ole  Bill  was  here  now,  he 
would  say:  i Let's  go  back  to  the  mountains, 
Dick,  an'  stay  thar.'  He  would  n't  like  to  see  his 


28  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

ole  nuntin'  grounds  wasted  in  this  way,  an'  I  do  n't 
want  to  see  it  neither.  But  I  know  that  the  Rocky 
Mountains  an'  grizzly  bars  will  last  as  long  as  I 
shall,  an'  thar  '11  be  no  need  of  trappers  an'  hunters 
an'  guides  arter  that." 

Dick  became  silent  after  this,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  train  halted  for  the  noon's  rest,  that  he 
recovered  his  usual  spirits.  • 


ANTELOPE   HUNTING.  29 


CHAPTER   III. 


iRADUALLY  the  train  left  the  im- 
provements of  civilization  behind, 
and,  at  the  end  of  three  weeks,  it 
was  miles  outside  of  a  fence.  Here 
the  trapper  was  in  his  natural  element. 
He  felt,  as  he  expressed,  "like  a 
young  one  jest  out  o'  school,"  adding, 
that  all  he  needed  was  "  one  glimpse  of  a  Co- 
manche  or  Cheyenne  to  make  him  feel  perfectly 
nat'ral." 

In  accordance  with  the  promise  he  had  made 
Prank  before  leaving  St.  Joseph,  he  now  took  Pete 
(that  was  the  name  the  latter  had  given  his  horse) 
under  his  especial  charge ;  and  every  morning,  at 
the  first  peep  of  day,  the  boys  saw  him  galloping 
over  the  prairie,  firing  his  rifle  as  fast  as  he  could 
reload,  as  if  in  pursuit  of  an  imaginary  herd  of 


30  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

buffaloes.  At  first  the  spirited  animal  objected  to 
this  mode  of  treatment,  and  made  the  most  desper- 
ate efforts  to  unseat  his  rider;  but  the  trapper, 
who  had  broken  more  than  one  wild  mustang,  was 
perfectly  at  home  on  horseback,  and,  after  a  few 
exercises  of  this  kind,  Pete  was  turned  over  to  his 
young  master,  with  the  assurance  that  he  was  ready 
to  begin  buffalo  hunting.  According  to  Frank's 
idea,  the  animal  had  improved  considerably  under 
the  trapper's  system  of  training,  for  he  would 
hardly  wait  for  his  rider  to  be  fairly  in  the  saddle 
before  he  would  start  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 
The  boys,  who  considered  themselves  fully  able  to 
do  any  thing  that  had  ever  been  accomplished  by 
any  one  else,  having  seen  Dick  load  and  fire  his 
rifle  while  riding  at  full  speed,  began  to  imitate  his 
example,  and  in  a  short  time  learned  the  art  to 
perfection.  In  addition  to  this,  each  boy  looked 
upon  his  horse  as  the  better  animal,  and  the  emi- 
grants were  witnesses  to  many  a  race  between 
them,  in  which  Sleepy  Sam,  as  Archie  called  his 
horse,  always  came  off  winner.  But  Frank  kept 
up  the  contest,  and  at  every  possible  opportunity 
the  horses  were  "  matched,"  until  they  had  learned 
their  parts  so  well,  that  every  time  they  found 


ANTELOPE   HUNTING.  31 

themselves  together,  they  would  start  off  on  a  race 
without  waiting  for  the  word  from  their  riders. 

One  morning,  just  after  the  train  had  left  the 
camp,  as  the  boys  were  riding  beside  the  wagon, 
listening  to  a  story  the  trapper  was  relating,  the 
latter  suddenly  stopped,  and,  pointing  toward  a 
distant  swell,  said :  "  Do  you  see  that  ar',  young- 
sters?" 

The  boys,  after  straining  their  eyes  in  vain, 
brought  their  field-glass  into  requisition,  and  finally 
discovered  an  object  moving  slowly  along  through 
the  high  grass ;  but  the  distance  was  so  great,  they 
could  not  determine  what  it  was. 

"  That 's  a  prong-horn,"  said  the  trapper  at 
length.  "An'  now,  Frank,"  he  continued,  "if 
you  '11  lend  me  that  ar  hoss,  I  '11  show  you  that  all 
the  huntin'  in  the  world  aint  larnt  in  that  leetle 
patch  of  timber  around  Lawrence/' 

Frank  at  once  dismounted,  and  Dick,  after  se- 
curing his  rifle,  sprung  into  the  saddle,  saying  : 

"  Come  along  easy-like,  youngsters,  an'  when  I 
tell  you,  you  get  off  an'  hide  behind  your  hoss." 

Frank  mounted  Sleepy  Sam  behind  Archie,  and 
they  followed  the  trapper,  who  led  the  way  at  an 
easy  gallop.  Useless,  at  his  master's  command, 


32  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

remained  with  the  wagon.  They  rode  for  a  mile 
at  a  steady  pace,  and  then,  seeing  that  the  game 
had  discovered  them,  the  boys,  at  a  signal  from  the 
trapper,  stopped  and  dismounted,  while  Dick  kept 
on  alone,  his  every  movement  closely  watched  by 
Frank  and  Archie,  who,  having  often  read  of  the 
skill  required  in  hunting  antelopes,  were  anxious 
to  see  how  it  was  done.  The  trapper  rode  on  for 
about  half  a  mile  further,  and  then  the  boys  saw 
him  dismount,  unbuckle  the  bridle,  and  hobble  his 
horse  so  that  he  would  not  stray  away.  He  then 
threw  himself  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  disap- 
peared. A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  the  boys 
saw  his  'coon-skin  cap  waving  above  the  grass.  If 
this  was  intended  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
game,  it  did  not  meet  with  immediate  success,  for 
the  antelopes  continued  to  feed  leisurely  up  the 
swell,  and  finally  some  of  their  number  disappeared 
behind  it.  The  boys  regarded  this  as  conclusive 
evidence  that  the  trapper's  plan  had  failed ;  but  at 
length  one  of  the  antelopes,  which  stood  a  little 
apart  from  the  others,  and  appeared  to  be  acting 
as  sentinel,  uttered  a  loud  snort,  which  instantly 
brought  every  member  of  the  herd  to  his  side. 
They  remained  huddled  together  for  several  mo- 


ANTELOPE  HUNTING.  83 

ments,  as  if  in  consultation,  and  then  began  to  move 
slowly  down  the  swell  toward  the  place  where  the 
trapper  was  concealed.  There  were  about  twenty 
animals  in  the  herd,  and  they  came  on  in  single 
file,  stopping  now  and  then  to  snuff  the  air  and  exam- 
ine the  object  that  had  excited  their  curiosity.  But 
nothing  suspicious  was  to  be  seen,  for  the  trapper 
was  concealed  in  the  grass,  the  only  thing  visible 
being  his  cap,  which  he  gently  waved  to  and  fro  as 
he  watched  the  movements  of  the  game.  The  an- 
telopes advanced  slowly — much  too  slowly  for  the 
impatient  boys,  who,  concealed  behind  their  horse, 
closely  watched  all  their  movements,  fearful  that 
they  might  detect  the  presence  of  the  trapper,  and 
seek  safety  in  flight.  But  the  latter  well  under- 
stood the  matter  in  hand,  and  presently  the  boys 
saw  a  puff  of  smoke  rise  from  the  grass,  and  the 
nearest  of  the  antelopes,  springing  into  the  air, 
fell  dead  in  his  tracks.  The  others  turned  and  fled 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind. 

In  an  instant  Frank  and  Archie  had  mounted, 
and  when  they  reached  the  place  where  the  trap- 
per was  standing,  he  had  secured  his  prize,  which 
was  one  of  the  most  graceful  animals  the  boys  had 
ever  seen.  It  was  about  three  and  a  half  feet 
3 


34  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

high  at  the  shoulders,  and,  although  Dick  pro- 
nounced it  very  fat,  its  body  was  slender  and  its 
limbs  small  and  muscular.  After  having  exam- 
ined the  animal  to  their  satisfaction,  they  all 
mounted  their  horses,  Dick  carrying  the  game  be- 
fore him  on  his  saddle ;  and  as  they  rode  toward 
the  wagon,  Archie  exclaimed : 

"  Now,  Frank,  we  know  how  to  hunt  antelopes. 
It  is  n't  so  very  hard,  after  all." 

"Isn't  it?"  inquired  the  trapper,  with  a  laugh. 
"  You  do  n't  understand  the  natur  of  the  critters, 
when  you  say  that.  I  know  I  killed  this  one  easy, 
but  a  feller  can't  allers  do  it.  Howsomever,  you 
can  try  your  hand  the  next  time  we  meet  any,  an' 
if  you  do  shoot  one,  I  '11  allers  call  you  my  i  ante- 
lope killers.'  Them  red  handkerchiefs  of  your'n 
would  be  jest  the  things  to  use,  'cause  the  critters 
can  see  it  a  long  way.  If  you  can  bring  one  of 
'em  into  camp,  it  will  be  something  wuth  braggin' 
on." 

It  was  evident  that  the  trapper  did  not  entertain 
a  very  exalted  opinion  of  the  boys'  "  hunting  quali- 
ties ; "  but  that  did  not  convince  them  that  they 
could  not  shoot  an  antelope.  On  the  contrary,  it 
made  them  all  the  more  anxious  for  an  opportu- 


ANTELOPE   HUNTING.  35 

nity  to  try  their  skill  on  the  game,  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  show  the  trapper  that  he  was  mis- 
taken. 

Half  an  hour's  riding  brought  them  to  the 
wagon,  which  was  standing  where  they  had  left  it, 
and,  after  the  buck  had  been  skinned  and  cleaned, 
the  trapper  mounted  to  his  seat  and  drove  after  the 
train,  followed  by  the  boys,  who  strained  their  eyes 
in  every  direction  in  the  hope  of  discovering  an- 
other herd  of  antelopes.  But  nothing  in  the  shape 
of  a  prong-horn  was  to  be  seen;  and  when  the 
train  resumed  its  journey  after  its  noon  halt,  they 
gradually  fell  back  until  the  wagons  were  out  of 
sight  behind  the  hills.  Then,  leaving  the  road, 
they  galloped  over  the  prairie  until  they  reached 
the  top  of  a  high  swell,  when  they  stopped  to  look 
about  them.  About  two  miles  to  the  left  was  the 
train  slowly  winding  among  the  hills  ;  but  the  most 
faithful  use  of  their  glass  failed  to  reveal  the 
wished-for  game.  All  that  afternoon  they  scoured 
the  prairie  on  both  sides  of  the  wagons,  and  when 
it  began  to  grow  dark,  they  reluctantly  turned  their 
faces  toward  the  camp. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  asked  the  trapper,  as 
the  boys  rode  up  to  the  wagon,  where  the  latter  was 


36  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

unharnessing  the  mules.  "I  said  you  couldn't 
shoot  a  prong-horn." 

"  Of  course  we  could  n't,"  answered  Archie, 
"  for  we  did  n't  see  any  to  shoot." 

"  I  know  that,"  replied  the  trapper  with  a  grin ; 
"  but  I  seed  plenty.  The  next  time  you  go  a 
huntin'  prong-horns,  be  sartin  that  the  wind  blows 
from  them  t'wards  you,  an'  not  from  you  t' wards 
them.  They've  got  sharp  noses,  them  critters 
have." 

The  boys  were  astonished.  They  had  not  th  ought 
of  that ;  and  Archie  was  compelled  to  acknowledge 
that  "  there  was  something  in  knowing  how,  after 
all." 


BEST   TRAPPER   ON   THE    PRAIRIE.  37 


CHAPTER    IV. 

ast  Srapjw  mi  % 


HAT  night  the  train  encamped  a  short 
distance  from  one  of  the  stations  of  the 
Overland  Stage  Company.  The  trap- 
per, as  usual,  after  taking  care  of  his 
mules,  superintended  the  preparations  for 
supper,  while  the  boys,  wearied  with  their 
day's  ride,  threw  themselves  on  the  grass 
near  the  wagon,  and  watched  his  movements  with 
a  hungry  eye.  Uncle  James,  as  he  had  done  al- 
most every  night  since  leaving  St.  Joseph,  walked 
about  the  camp  playing  with  the  children,  who  be- 
gan to  regard  him  as  an  old  acquaintance.  Pres- 
ently the  attention  of  the  boys  was  attracted  by  the 
approach  of  a  stranger,  whose  long  beard  and  thin 
hair  —  both  as  white  as  snow  —  bore  evidence  to  the 
fact  that  he  carried  the  burden  of  many  years  on 
his  shoulders. 


FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  complete  suit  of  buckskin, 
which,  although  well  worn,  was  nevertheless  very 
neat,  and,  in  spite  of  his  years,  his  step  was  firm, 
and  he  walked  as  erect  as  an  Indian.  He  carried 
a  long  heavy  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  and  from  his 
belt  peeped  the  head  of  a  small  hatchet  of  peculiar 
shape,  and  the  buck-horn  handle  of  a  hunting-knife. 
He  walked  slowly  through  the  camp,  and  when  he 
came  opposite  the  boys,  Dick  suddenly  sprang  from 
the  ground  where  he  had  been  seated,  watching 
some  steaks  that  were  broiling  on  the  coals,  and, 
striding  up  to  the  stranger,  laid  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  The  latter  turned,  and,  after  regarding 
him  sharply  for  a  moment,  thrust  out  his  hand, 
which  the  trapper  seized  and  wrung  in  silence.  For 
an  instant  they  stood  looking  at  each  other  without 
speaking,  and  then  Dick  took  the  old  man  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  up  to  the  fire,  exclaiming : 

"  Bob  Kelly,  the  oldest  an'  best  trapper  on  the 
prairy ! " 

The  boys  arose  as  he  approached,  and  regarded 
him  with  curiosity.  They  had  heard  their  guide 
speak  in  the  highest  terms  of  "  ole  Bob  Kelly,"  and 
had  often  wished  to  see  the  trapper  whom  Dick  was 
willing  to  acknowledge  as  his  superior.  There 


BEST   TRAPPER   ON   TI1E   PRAIRIE.  39 

he  was — a  mild,  good-natured-looking  old  man,  the 
exact  opposite  of  what  they  had  imagined  him 
to  be. 

"  Them  are  city  chaps,  Bob" — continued  the  trap- 
per, as  the  old  man,  after  gazing  at  the  boys  for  a 
moment,  seated  himself  on  the  ground  beside  the 
fire — "  an'  I  'm  takin'  'em  out  to  Californy.  In 
course  they  are  green  consarnin'  prairy  life,  but 
they  are  made  of  good  stuff,  an'  are  'bout  the  keer- 
lessest  youngsters  you  ever  see.  What  a  doin' 
here,  Bob  ?  " 

"Jest  lookin'  round,"  was  the  answer.  "I'm 
mighty  glad  to  meet  you  ag'in,  'cause  it  looks 
iiat'ral  to  see  you  'bout.  Things  aint  as  they  used 
to  be.  Me  an'  you  are  'bout  the  oldest  trappers 
agoin'  now.  The  boys  have  gone  one  arter  the 
other,  an'  thar  's  only  me  an'  you  left  that  I  knows 
on." 

"  What 's  come  on  Jack  Thomas  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  We  're  both  without  our  chums  now,"  answered 
the  old  man,  sorrowfully.  "  Jack  an'  ole  Bill  Law- 
eon  are  both  gone,  an'  their  scalps  are  in  a  Co- 
manche  wigwam." 

The  trapper  made  no  reply,  but  went  on  with  his 
preparations  for  supper  in  silence,  and  the  boys 


40  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

could  see  that  he  was  considerably  affected  by  the 
news  he  had  just  heard.  His  every  movement  was 
closely  watched  by  his  companion,  who  seemed  de- 
lighted to  meet  his  old  acquaintance  once  more, 
and  acted  as  though  he  did  not  wish  to  allow  him 
out  of  his  sight.  There  was  evidently  a  good  deal 
of  honest  affection  between  these  two  men.  It  did 
not  take  the  form  of  words,  but  would  have  showed 
itself  had  one  or  the  other  of  them  been  in  danger. 
They  did  not  speak  again  until  Mr.  Winters  eamo 
up,  when  Dick  again  introduced  his  friend  as  tho 
"oldest  an'  best  trapper  agoin'."  Uncle  James, 
who  understood  the  customs  of  the  trappers,  simply 
bowed — a  greeting  which  the  old  man  returned 
with  one  short,  searching  glance,  as  if  he  meant  to 
read  his  very  thoughts. 

"  Now,  then  ! "  exclaimed  Dick,  "  Grub 's  ready. 
Pitch  in,  Bob." 

The  old  trapper  was  not  in  the  habit  of  standing 
upon  ceremony,  and,  drawing  his  huge  knife  from 
his  belt,  he  helped  himself  to  a  generous  piece  of 
the  meat,  and,  declining  the  corn-bread  and  the 
cup  of  coffee  which  the  boys  passed  over  to  him, 
made  his  meal  entirely  of  venison.  After  supper — 
there  were  but  few  dishes  to  wash  now,  for  the 


BEST   TRAPPER   ON   THE    PRAIRIE.  41 

boys  had  learned  to  go  on  the  principle  that  "  fin- 
gers were  made  before  forks  " — the  trapper  hung 
what  remained  of  the  venison  in  the  wagon,  lighted 
his  pipe,  and  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  be- 
side his  companion. 

The  boys,  knowing  that  the  trappers  would  be 
certain  to  talk  over  the  events  that  had  transpired 
since  their  last  meeting,  spread  their  blankets  where 
they  could  hear  all  that  passed,  and  waited  impa- 
tiently for  them  to  begin ;  while  Mr.  Winters,  who 
had  by  this  time  become  acquainted  with  every  man, 
woman,  and  child,  in  the  train,  started  to  pay  a 
visit  to  the  occupants  of  a  neighboring  wagon. 

For  some  moments  the  two  men  smoked  in  si- 
lence, old  Bob  evidently  occupied  with  his  own 
thoughts,  and  Dick  patiently  waiting  for  him  to 
speak.  At  length  the  old  man  asked  : 

"Goin'to  Californy,  Dick?" 

The  trapper  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  What  a  goin'  to  do  arterward?  " 

"  I  'm  a  goin'  to  take  to  the  mountains,  an'  stay 
thar,"  replied  Dick.  "  I  've  seed  the  inside  of  a 
city,  Bob ;  have  rid  on  steam  railroads  an'  boats  as 
big  as  one  of  the  Black  Hills ;  an'  now  I  'm  satis- 
fied to  stay  here.  I  'd  a  heap  sooner  face  a  grizzly 


42  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

or  a  Injun  than  go  back  thar  ag'in,  'cause  I  didn't 
feel  to  hum." 

"Wai,  I'm  all  alone  now,  Dick,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  an'  so  are  you.  Our  chums  are  gone,  an' 
we  both  want  to  settle  with  them  Comanche  var- 
mints ;  so,  let 's  stick  together." 

Dick  seemed  delighted  with  this  proposition,  for 
he  quickly  arose  from  his  blanket  and  extended  his 
hand  to  his  companion,  who  shook  it  heartily ;  and 
the  boys  read  in  their  faces  a  determination  to 
stand  by  each  other  to  the  last. 

"  I  've  got  a  chum  now,  youngsters,"  said  Dick, 
turning  to  the  boys ;  "  an'  one  that  I  aint  afraid  to 
trust  any whar.  Thar 's  nothin'  like  havin'  a  friend, 
even  on  the  prairy.  I  come  with  the  boys,"  he 
added,  addressing  his  companion,  who,  seeing  the 
interest  Dick  took  in  his  "youngsters,"  slowly  sur- 
veyed them  from  head  to  foot — "  I  come  with  'em 
jest  to  show  'em  how  we  do  things  on  the  prairy. 
They  can  shoot  consid'ble  sharp,  an'  aint  afraid. 
All  it  wants  is  the  hard  knocks — fightin'  Injuns  an' 
grizzlies,  an'  starvin'  on  the  prairy,  an'  freezin'  in 
the  mountains,  to  make  trappers  of  'em."  And 
here  Dick  settled  back  on  his  elbow,  and  proceeded 
to  give  the  old  man  a  short  account  of  what  had 


BEST   TRAPPER   ON   THE    PRAIRIE.  43« 

transpired  at  Uncle  Joe's  cabin ;  described  Frank's 
fight  with  the  moose  and  panther  in  glowing  lan- 
guage ;  told  how  the  capture  of  the  cubs  had  been 
effected,  until  old  Bob  began  to  be  interested;  arid 
when  Dick  finished  his  story,  he  said : 

"  The  youngsters  would  make  good  trappers." 

This,  as  the  trapper  afterward  told  the  boys, 
was  a  compliment  old  Bob  seldom  paid  to  any  one, 
"for,"  said  he,  "I've  knowed  him  a  long  time,  an} 
have  been  in  many  a  fight  with  him,  an'  he  never 
told  me  I  was  good  or  bad." 

"  Wai,"  said  Dick,  again  turning  to  his  compan- 
ion, "You  said  as  how  Jack  Thomas  was  rubbed 
out.  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

Old  Bob  refilled  his  pipe,  smoked  a  few  moments 
as  if  to  bring  the  story  fresh  to  his  memory,  and 
then  answered : 

"  When  I  heered  that  Bill  Lawson  war  gone,  an' 
that  you  war  left  alone,  I  done  my  best  to  find  you, 
an'  get  you  to  jine  a  small  party  we  war  makin'  up 
to  visit  our  ole  huntin'  grounds  on  the  Saskatche- 
wan ;  but  you  had  tuk  to  the  mountains,  and  no- 
body did  n't  know  whar  to  go  to  find  you.  Thar 
war  eight  of  us  in  the  party,  an'  here,  you  see,  are 
all  that  are  left.  As  nigh  as  I  can  'member,  it  war 


44  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

'bout  four  year  ago  come  spring  that  we  sot  out 
from  the  fort,  whar  we  had  sold  our  furs.  We  had 
three  pack  mules,  plenty  of  powder,  ball,  an'  sich 
like,  an'  we  started  in  high  sperits,  tellin'  the  tra- 
der that  bought  our  spelter  that  we  'd  have  a  fine 
lot  fur  him  ag'in  next  meetin'  time.  We  knowed 
thar  war  plenty  of  Injuns  an'  sich  varmints  to  be 
fit  an'  killed  afore  we  come  back,  but  that  did  n't 
trouble  us  none,  'cause  we  all  knowed  our  own  bis- 
ness,  and  didn't  think  but  that  we  would  come 
through  all  right,  jest  as  we  had  done  a  hundred 
times  afore.  We  didn't  intend  to  stop  afore  we 
got  to  the  Saskatchewan ;  so  we  traveled  purty  fast, 
an'  in  'bout  three  weeks  found  ourselves  in  the 
Blackfoot  country,  nigh  the  Missouri  River.  One 
night  we  camped  on  a  leetle  stream  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains,  an'  the  next  mornin',  jest  as  we  war 
gettin'  ready  to  start  out  ag'in,  Jack  Thomas — 
who,  like  a  youngster  turned  loose  from  school, 
war  allers  runnin'  round,  pokin'  his  nose  into  what- 
ever war  goin'  on — came  gallopin'  into  camp, 
shouting : 

"'Buffaler!  buffaler!' 

"  In  course,  we  all  knowed  what  that  meant,  an* 
as  we  had  n't  tasted  buffaler  hump  since  leavin'  the 


BEST  TRAPPER   ON  THE   PRAIRIE.  45 

fort,  we  saddled  up  in  a  hurry  an'  put  arter  the 
game.  We  went  along  kinder  easy-like — Jack 
leadin'  the  way — until  we  come  to  the  top  of  a 
swell,  an'  thar  they  war — nothin'  but  buffaler  as 
fur  as  a  feller  could  see.  It  war  a  purty  sight,  an' 
more  'n  one  of  us  made  up  our  minds  that  we  would 
have  a  good  supper  that  night.  We  could  n't  get 
no  nigher  to  'em  without  bein'  diskivered,  so  we 
scattered  and  galloped  arter  'em.  In  course,  the 
minit  we  showed  ourselves  they  put  off  like  the 
wind;  but  we  war  in  easy  shootin'  distance,  an' 
afore  we  got  through  with  'em,  I  had  knocked  over 
four  big  fellers  an'  wounded  another.  He  war  hurt 
so  bad  he  could  n't  run ;  but  I  didn't  like  to  go  up 
too  clost  to  him,  so  I  rid  off  a  leetle  way,  an'  war 
loadiri'  up  my  rifle  to  give  him  a  settler,  when  I 
heered  a  noise  that  made  me  prick  up  my  ears  an' 
look  sharp.  I  heered  a  trampin,  an'  I  knowed  it 
war  made  by  something  'sides  a  buffaler.  Now, 
youngsters,  a  greenhorn  would  n't  a  seed  any  thing 
strange  in  that;  but  when  I  heered  it,  I  didn't  stop 
to  kill  the  wounded  buffaler,  but  turned  my  hoss 
an'  made  tracks.  I  hadn't  gone  more 'n  twenty 
rod  afore  I  seed  four  Blackfoot  Injuns  comin'  over 
a  swell  'bout  half  a  mile  back.  I  had  kept  my 


46  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

eyes  open — as  I  allers  do — but  I  had  n't  seen  a  bit 
of  Injun  sign  on  the  prairy,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  onct  that  them  Blackfoot  varmints  had  been 
shyin'  round  arter  the  same  buffaler  we  had  jest 
been  chasm',  an'  that  they  didn't  know  we  war 
'bout  till  they  heered  us  shoot.  Then,  in  course, 
they  put  arter  us,  'cause  they  think  a  heap  more 
of  scalps  than  they  do  of  bufialer  meat. 

"Wai,  as  I  war  sayin',  I  made  tracks  sudden; 
but  they  war  n't  long  in  diskiverin'  me,  an'  they  sot 
up  a  yell.  I  've  heered  that  same  yell  often,  an'  I 
have  kinder  got  used  to  it ;  but  I  would  have  give 
my  hoss,  an'  this  rifle,  too,  that  I  have  carried  for 
goin'  nigh  onto  twenty  year,  if  I  had  been  safe  in 
Fort  Laramie,  'cause  I  did  n't  think  them  four  In- 
juns war  alone.  I  war  sartin  they  had  friends  not 
a  great  way  off,  an'  somehow  I  a'most  knowed  how 
the  hul  thing  was  comin'  out.  I  didn't  hardly 
know  which  way  to  go  to  find  our  fellers,  'cause 
while  we  were  arter  the  buffaler  we  had  got  scat- 
tered a  good  deal;  but  jest  as  I  come  to  the  top 
of  a  swell  I  seed  'em  a  comin'.  Jack  Thomas  war 
ahead,  an'  he  war  swingin'  his  rifle  an  yellin'  wus- 
ser  nor  any  Injun.  I  '11  allow,  Dick,  that  it  made 
me  feel  a  heap  easier  when  I  seed  them  trappers. 


BEST  TRAPPEK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      47 

Jack,  who  allers  knowed  what  war  goin'  on  in  the 
country  fur  five  miles  round,  had  first  diskivered 
the  Injuns,  an'  had  got  all  the  party  together  'cept 
me,  an'  in  course  they  could  n't  think  of  savin'  their 
own  venison  by  runnin'  off  and  leavin'  me. 

"  Wai,  jest  as  soon  as  we  got  together  we  sot  up 
a  yell  and  faced  'bout.  The  Injuns,  up  to  this 
time,  had  rid  clost  together ;  but  when  they  seed 
that  we  war  n't  goin'  to  run  no  further  jest  then, 
they  scattered  as  if  they  war  goin'  to  surround 
us;  an'  then  we  all  knowed  that  them  four  Injuns 
war  n't  alone.  So,  without  stoppin'  to  fight  'em,  we 
turned  an'  run  ag'in,  makin'  tracks  for  the  woods 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  An'  we  war  n't  a 
minit  too  soon,  fur  all  of  a  sudden  we  heered  a 
yell,  an'  lookin'  back  we  seed  'bout  fifty  more  red- 
skins comin'  arter  us  like  mad.  They  had  a'most 
got  us  surrounded ;  but  the  way  to  the  mountains 
war  open,  an'  we  run  fur  our  lives.  The  varlets 
that  had  followed  me  war  in  good  pluggin'  distance, 
an'  when  we  turned  in  our  saddles  an'  drawed  a  bead 
on  'em,  we  had  four  less  to  deal  with.  It  war  n't 
more  'n  ten  mile  to  the  foot  of  them  mountains,  but 
it  seemed  a  hundred  to  us,  an'  we  all  drawed  a 
long  breath  when  we  found  ourselves  under  kiver 


48  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

of  the  woods.  The  minit  we  reached  the  timber 
we  jumped  off  our  bosses,  hitched  them  to  the 
trees,  an'  made  up  our  minds  to  fight  it  out  thar 
an'  then.  We  knowed,  as  well  as  we  wanted  to 
know,  what  the  Injuns  would  do  next — they  would 
leave  a  party  on  the  prairy  to  watch  us,  an'  the  rest 
would  go  sneakin'  round  through  the  woods  an'  pick 
us  off  one  at  a  time.  The  only  thing  we  could  do — 
leastwise  till  it  come  dark — war  to  watch  the  var- 
lets,  an'  drop  every  one  of  'em  that  showed  his 
painted  face  in  pluggin'  distance.  We  war  in  a 
tight  place.  Our  pack  mules,  an'  a'most  all  our 
kit,  had  been  left  in  the  camp,  an'  we  knowed  it 
wouldn't  be  long  afore  the  Injuns  would  have  'em, 
an'  even  if  we  got  off  with  our  har,  we  wouldn't 
be  much  better  off — no  traps,  no  grub,  an'  skeercely 
half  a  dozen  bullets  in  our  pouches. 

"Wai,  the  Injuns,  when  they  seed  that  we  had 
tuk  to  the  timber,  stopped,  takin'  mighty  good  keer, 
as  they  thought,  to  keep  out  of  range  of  our  rifles, 
an'  began  to  hold  a  palaver,  now  an'  then  lookin' 
t' wards  us  an'  settin'  up  a  yell,  which  told  us  plain 
enough  that  they  thought  they  had  us  ketched. 
But  we,  knowin'  to  an  inch  how  fur  our  shootin' 
irons  would  carry,  drawed  up  an'  blazed  away ;  an* 


BEST   TRAPPER   ON   THE   PRAIRIE.  49 

we  knowed,  by  the  way  them  red-skins  got  back 
over  that  swell,  that  we  had  n't  throwed  our  lead 
away.  They  left  one  feller  thar  to  watch  us,  how- 
somever,  but  he  tuk  mighty  good  keer  to  keep 
purty  well  out  of  sight,  showin'  only  'bout  two 
inches  of  his  head  'bove  the  top  of  the  hill.  While 
the  Injuns  war  holdin'  their  council,  we  had  a  talk 
'bout  what  we  had  better  do.  The  truth  war,  thar 
war  only  one  thing  we  could  do,  an'  that  war  to 
stay  thar  until  dark  an'  then  take  our  chances.  We 
had  all  fit  savage  Injuns  enough  to  know  that  they 
would  n't  bother  us  much  so  long  as  daylight  lasted; 
but  arter  that,  if  we  did  n't  get  away  from  thar,  our 
lives  war  not  worth  a  charge  of  powder.  We  soon 
made  up  our  minds  what  we  would  do.  We  di- 
vided ourselves  into  two  parties — four  of  us  watch- 
in'  the  prairy,  an'  the  others  keepin'  an  eye  on  the 
woods,  to  see  that  the  varlets  did  n't  slip  up  behind 
us. 

"Wai,  we  didn't  see  nothin'  out  of  the  way  all 
that  day.  Thar  war  that  feller  peepin'  over  the 
hill,  an'  that  war  the  only  thing  in  the  shape  of  a 
red-skin  we  could  see ;  an'  we  did  n't  hear  nothin' 
neither,  fur  whatever  they  done,  they  didn't  make 
noise  eno.ugh  to  skeer  a  painter.  At  last  it  come 
4 


50  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

night,  an'  it  war  'bout  the  darkest  night  I  ever  see — 
no  moon,  no  stars — an'  then  we  began  to  prick  up 
our  ears.  We  all  knowed  that  the  time  had  come. 
You  can  easy  tell  what  we  war  passin'  through  our 
minds.  Thar  war  n't  no  sich  thing  as  a  coward 
among  us  eight  fellers,  but  men  in  sich  a  scrape  as 
that  can 't  help  thinkin',  an'  I  knowed  that  every 
one  thar  drawed  a  long  breath  when  he  thought  of 
what  he  had  got  to  do.  I  tell  you,  Dick,  it  war 
something  none  of  us  liked  to  do — leave  one  an- 
other in  that  way — men  that  you  have  hunted,  an' 
trapped,  an'  fought  Injuns  with,  an'  mebbe  slept 
under  the  same  blanket  with,  an'  who  have  stuck 
to  you  through  thick  an'  thin — sich  fellers,  I  say, 
you  do  n't  like  to  desart  when  they  're  in  danger. 
But  what  else  could  we  do  ?  We  war  a'most  out  of 
powder  an'  lead,  an'  the  Injuns  war  more  'n  six  to 
our  one.  You  have  been  in  sich  scrapes,  an'  in  course 
know  that  thar  war  n't  but  one  way  open  to  us. 

"  Wai,  as  I  was  sayin',  as  soon  as  it  come  fairly 
dark,  the  boys  gathered  'round  me,  an'  waited  to 
hear  what  I  war  goin'  to  do.  In  course,  I  couldn't 
advise  'em,  'cause  it  war  every  feller  look  out  fur 
himself,  an'  the  best  men  war  them  as  was  lucky 
enough  to  get  away.  So  I  said  : 


BEST  TRAPPER  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      51 

"  f I  'm  goin'  to  start  now,  boys.  It 's  high  time 
we  war  movin',  cause  if  we  stay  here  half  an  hour 
longer,  we  '11  have  them  red-skins  down  on  us  in  a 
lump.  Thar's  somethin'  goin'  on,  sartin.  They 
don't  keep  so  still  fur  nothinV 

"  Wai,  we  whispered  the  matter  over,  an'  finally 
settled  it.  The  oldest  man  war  to  go  fust;  the 
next  oldest,  second ;  an'  so  on ;  an'  that  them  as 
got  away  should  draw  a  bee-line  fur  Fort  Laramie, 
an'  get  thar  to  onct,  so  that  we  might  know  who 
got  off  an'  who  did  n't.  We  did  n't  think  we  should 
all  get  away.  Some  war  sartin  to  go  under ;  an', 
Dick,  we  did  n't  forget  to  promise  each  other  that 
those  of  us  that  lived  would  never  let  a  red  Injun 
cross  our  trail.  When  every  thing  was  settled,  I, 
bein'  the  oldest  man  in  the  comp'ny,  began  to  get 
ready  fur  the  start.  I  put  fresh  primin'  in  my  rifle ; 
seed  that  my  knife  and  tomahawk  war  all  right; 
then,  arter  shakin'  hands  with  all  the  boys,  an' 
wishin'  'em  good  luck,  I  crawled  away  on  my  hands 
an'  knees.  I  did  n't  go  back  into  the  woods,  but 
tuk  to  the  edge  of  the  prairy,  an'  found  the  way 
cl'ar.  Not  an  Injun  did  I  hear.  As  fur  seeiri',  you 
couldn't  a  told  your  mother,  if  she  war  n't  two  foot 
from  you ;  an'  in  'bout  half  an  hour  I  found  my- 


52  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

self  on  the  banks  of  a  leetle  creek.  How  long  I 
lay  thar,  .an'  how  much  of  that  water  I  drunk,  I 
do  n't  know ;  but  I  thought  water  never  tasted  so 
good  afore.  Then  I  walked  into  the  creek,  an'  had 
waded  in  it  fur  'bout  half  a  mile,  when  all  to  onct  I 
heered  a  yellin'  an'  whoopin',  followed  by  the  crack 
of  rifles,  an*  then  I  knowed  that  I  hadn't  been 
fooled  consarnin'  what  the  red-skins  meant  to  do. 
They  had  got  what  war  left  of  our  fellers  surround- 
ed, an'  made  the  rush.  Fur  a  minit  I  stood  thar 
in  the  water  an'  listened.  I  heered  a  few  shots 
made  by  our  poor  fellers,  'cause  I  can  tell  the  crack 
of  a  Missouri  rifle  as  fur  as  I  can  hear  it ;  an'  then 
one  long,  loud  yell,  told  me  that  it  war  all  over. 

"  Wai,  I  laid  round  in  them  mountains  fur 
more  'n  six  weeks,  starvin'  fur  grub  an'  water,  an7 
listenin'  to  the  yellin'  varlets  that  war  huntin  arter 
me ;  but  I  got  back  safe  at  last,  arter  walkin'  all 
the  way  from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  fort,  an' 
thar  I  found  Jack  Thomas.  Me  an'  him  war  the 
only  ones  that  got  out.  When  the  Injuns  got  them 
six  fellers,  they  rubbed  out  nearly  the  last  one  of 
our  comp'ny.  Me  an'  Jack  war  mighty  down- 
hearted 'bout  it,  an'  it  war  a  long  time  afore  we 
could  b'lieve  that  we  war  left  alone.  We  didn't 


BEST   TKAPPER   ON    THE    PRAIRIE.  53 

feel  then  like  ever  goin'  back  to  the  mountains 
ag'in,  'cause  we  knowed  it  would  be  lonesome  thai*. 
In  course,  we  could  easy  have  made  up  another  ex- 
pedition, fur  thar  war  plenty  of  hunters  an'  trap- 
pers— good  ones,  too — hangin'  round  the  fort ;  but 
somehow  we  did  n't  feel  like  goin'  off  with  any  one 
outside  of  our  own  comp'ny. 

"  Wai,  me  an'  Jack  laid  round  as  long  as  we 
could  stand  it,  an'  then  we  got  a  couple  of  hosses, 
another  new  kit,  an'  sot  off  ag'in.  We  did  n't  think 
it  safe  fur  only  two  of  us  to  try  the  Blackfoot 
country  ag'in,  so  we  struck  for  the  huntin'  grounds 
on  the  Colorado.  At  that  time  thar  war  plenty  of 
beaver  in  that  river ;  so  it  did  n't  take  us  long  to 
find  a  place  that  suited  us;  an'  we  settled  down, 
comfortable-like,  to  spend  the  winter.  Fur  three 
months  we  had  plenty  of  sport,  an'  the  sight  of  our 
pile  of  furs,  growin'  bigger  an'  bigger  every  day, 
made  us  happy  an'  contented.  One  mornin'  we  sot 
out  bright  an'  'arly,  as  usual,  to  'tend  to  our  bis- 
ness,  takin'  different  directions — fur  my  traps  war 
sot  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  an'  Jack  had  sot 
his  'ne  on  the  banks  of  the  creek  that  run  through 
the  valley.  I  had  been  gone  frum  him  but  a  short 
time,  when  I  heered  the  crack  of  his  rifle.  Some- 


54  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

how,  I  knowed  it  war  somethin'  'sides  a  varmint  he 
had  shot  at;  an'  I  war  n't  fooled  neither,  for  a  miriit 
arterward  I  heered  another  gun,  an'  then  afore  I 
could  think  twice  a  Comanche  yell  come  echoin' 
from  the  valley,  tellin'  me  plainer  nor  words  that 
my  chum  war  gone.  An  Injun  had  watched  one 
of  his  traps,  an'  shot  him  as  he  come  to  it.  I 
knowed  it  as  sartin  as  if  I  had  seed  the  hul  thing 
done. 

"  Wai,  I  war  n't  in  a  fix  kalkerlated  to  make  a 
feller  feel  very  pleasant.  I  war  three  hundred 
miles  from  the  nighest  fort,  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  Comanche  country,  an'  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
with  the  snow  two  foot  deep  on  a  level.  But  I 
didn't  stop  to  think  of  them  things  then.  My  bis- 
ness  war  to  get  away  from  thar  to  onct.  In  course, 
I  couldn't  go  back  arter  my  hoss  or  spelter,  fur  I 
didn't  know  how  many  Injuns  thar  war  in  the  val- 
ley, nor  whar  they  had  hid  themselves ;  so  I  shoul- 
dered my  rifle  an'  sot  off  on  foot  t' wards  the  prairy. 
A  storm  that  come  up  that  night — an'  it  snowed 
an'  blowed  in  a  way  that  war  n't  a  funny  thing  to 
look  at — kivered  up  my  trail ;  an'  if  I  war  ever  fol- 
lered,  I  do  n't  know  it. 

"  I  finally  reached  the  fort,  an'  I  've  been  thar  ever 


BEST  TRAPPER  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      55 

since.  I'm  an  ole  chap  now,  Dick;  but  when  I 
hunted  an'  trapped  with  your  ole  man,  when  me  an' 
him  war  n't  bigger  nor  them  two  youngsters,  an' 
had  n't  hardly  strength  enough  to  shoulder  a  rifle, 
I  never  thought  that  I  should  live  to  be  the  last  of 
our  comp'ny.  In  them  days  the  prairy  war  differ- 
ent from  what  it  is  now.  It  war  afore  the  hoss- 
thieves  an'  rascals  began  to  come  in  here  to  get 
away  from  the  laws  of  the  States ;  an'  them  that 
called  themselves  trappers  then  war  honest  men, 
that  never  did  harm  to  a  lone  person  on  the  prairy. 
But  they've  gone,  one  arter  the  other,  an'  only  me 
an'  you  are  left." 

As  the  old  trapper  ceased  speaking,  he  arose 
suddenly  to  his  feet  and  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness, leaving  Dick  gazing  thoughtfully  into  the 
fire.  It  was  an  hour  before  he  returned,  mounted 
on  his  horse,  which  he  picketed  with  the  others. 
He  then  silently  rolled  himself  up  in  his  blanket 
and  went  to  sleep. 


56  FRANK   ON   THE   PKAIEIE. 


CHAPTER   V. 


setting  out  the  next  morning, 
Frank  noticed  that  the  wagons,  in- 
stead of  starting  off  singly,  and 
straggling,  as  they  had  formerly 
done,  kept  close  together,  and  trav- 
eled more  rapidly.  The  trapper, 
too,  instead  of  taking  the  lead,  and 
getting  in  advance  of  the  train,  seemed  satisfied 
to  remain  with  the  others.  Upon  inquiring  the 
reason  for  this,  Dick  replied : 

"You  may  find -out  afore  night,  youngster,  that 
we  are  in  a  bad  bit  of  Injun  country.  The  train 
that  went  out  afore  us  had  a  scrimmage  here  with 
nigh  five  hundred  of  the  red-skins,  who  stampeded 
some  of  their  stock.  So  keep  your  eyes  open, 
an'  if  you  see  a  Injun,  let  me  know  to  onct."  The 
trapper  said  this  with  a  broad  grin,  that  was  meant 


A  FIGHT   WITH   THE  INDIANS.  57 

to  imply  that  if  they  were  attacked,  the  Indians 
would  make  their  appearance  before  a  person  so 
inexperienced  as  Frank  could  be  aware  of  it. 

'*  The  red-skins  do  n't  generally  keer  'bout  an 
out-an'-out  fight,"  continued  the  trapper,  "  'cause 
they  do  n't  like  these  long  rifles,  an'  they  know 
that  these  yere  pioneers  shoot  mighty  sharp.  All 
the  Injuns  want — or  all  they  can  get — is  the  stock; 
an'  they  sometimes  jump  on  to  a  train  afore  a 
feller  knows  it,  an'  yell  an'  kick  up  a  big  fuss, 
which  frightens  the  cattle.  That 's  what  we  call 
stampedin'  'em.  An',  youngster,  do  you  see  that 
'ar?" 

As  the  trapper  spoke,  he  pointed  out  over  the 
prairie  towards  a  little  hill  about  two  miles  dis- 
tant. After  gazing  for  a  few  moments  in  the  di- 
rection indicated,  Archie  replied : 

"I  see  something  that  looks  like  a  weed  or  a 
tuft  of  grass." 

*  Wai,  that 's  no  weed,"  said  the  trapper,  with 
a  laugh,  "nor  grass,  neither.  If  it  is,  it 's  on  hoss- 
back,  an'  carries  a  shootin'-iron  or  a  bow  an'  ar- 
rer.  That's  a  Injun,  or  I  never  seed  one  afore. 
What  do  you  say,  Bob  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
old  trapper,  who  at  this  moment  came  up. 


58  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

"I  seed  that  five  minutes  ago,"  was  the  reply, 
"an'  in  course  it  can  't  be  nothin5  but  a  red-skin." 

.The  boys  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  the  object, 
but  their  eyes  were  not  as  sharp  as  those  of  the 
trappers,  for  they  could  not  discover  that  it  bore 
any  resemblance  to  an  Indian,  until  Mr.  Winters 
handed  them  his  field-glass  through  which  he  had 
been  regarding  the  object  ever  since  its  discovery. 
Then  they  found  that  the  trappers  had  not  been 
deceived.  It  was  a  solitary  Indian,  who  sat  on  his 
horse  as  motionless  as  a  statue,  no  doubt  watching 
the  train,  and  endeavoring  to  satisfy  himself  of  the 
number  of  men  there  might  be  to  defend  it.  In 
his  hand  he  carried  something  that  looked  like  a 
spear  adorned  with  a  tuft  of  feathers. 

"I  wish  the  varlet  was  in  good  pluggin'  dis- 
tance," said  Dick,  patting  his  rifle  which  lay  across 
his  knees.  "If  I  could  only  get  a  bead  on  him, 
he  would  never  carry  back  to  his  fellers  the  news 
of  what  he  has  seed." 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  are  more  of  them  ? " 
asked  Archie,  in  a  voice  that  would  tremble  in 
spite  of  himself. 

"  Sartin,"  replied  old  Bob  Kelly,  who  still  rode 
beside  the  wagon ;  "  thar  's  more  of  'em  not  fur 


A   FIGHT   WITH   THE   INDIANS.  59 

off.  This  feller  is  a  kind  o'  spy  like,  an'  when  he 
has  seen  exactly  how  things  stand,  he  '11  go  back 
an'  tell  the  rest  of  'em,  an'  the  fust  thing  we  know, 
they  '11  be  down  on  us  like  a  hawk  on  a  June-bug. 
But  they  '11  ketch  a  weasel,  they  will,  when  they 
pitch  into  us.  Dick,  when  they  do  come,  don't 
forget  Bill  Lawson." 

The  trapper  turned  his  head,  for  a  moment,  as 
if  to  hide  the  emotion  he  felt,  at  the  mention  of 
the  name  of  his  departed  companion,  but  presently 
replied : 

"  This  aint  the  fust  time  that  you  an'  me  h'ave 
been  in  jest  sich  scrapes,  Bob,  an'  it  aint  likely 
that  we  '11  soon  forget  that  we  owe  the  varlets  a 
long  settlement.  Thar  aint  as  many  of  us  now  as 
thar  used  to  be ;  more  'n  one  good  trapper  has 
had  his  har  raised  by  them  same  red-skins — fur  I 
know  a  Cheyenne  as  fur  as  I  kin  see  him,  young- 
sters— an'  mebbe  one  o'  these  days,  when  some 
one  asks,  'What's  come  on  ole  Bob  Kelly  an' 
Dick  Lewis?'  the  answer  will  be,  < Killed  by  the 
Injuns!'" 

It  may  be  readily  supposed  that  such  conversa- 
tion as  this  was  not  calculated  to  quiet  the  feel- 
ings of  Frank  and  Archie — who  had  been  consid- 


60  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

erably  agitated  by  the  information  that  there  was  a 
body  of  hostile  Indians  at  no  great  distance — and 
to  their  excited  imaginations  the  danger  appeared 
tenfold  worse  than  it  really  was.  At  that  day, 
as  the  trapper  had  remarked,  it  was  a  very  uncom- 
mon occurrence  for  a  large  train  to  be  engaged  in 
a  regular  fight  with  the  Indians,  for  the  latter  had 
learned  to  their  cost  that  the  pioneers  were  always 
well  armed,  and  that  there  were  some  among  them 
who  understood  Indian  fighting.  They  generally 
contented  themselves  with  sudden  and  rapid  raids 
upon  the  stock  of  the  emigrants,  and  they  seldom 
departed  empty-handed.  But  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered that  the  trappers,  who  had  participated  in 
numberless  engagements  with  the  savages,  and 
witnessed  deeds  of  cruelty  that  had  awakened  in 
them  a  desire  for  vengeance,  should  delight  to  talk 
over  their  experience.  The  boys,  although  consid- 
erably frightened,  were  still  greatly  encouraged  by 
their  example.  Dick  twisted  uneasily  on  his  seat, 
as  though  impatient  for  the  fight  to  begin,  now 
and  then  looking  toward  the  spy,  as  if  he  had 
half  a  mind  to  venture  a  shot  at  him ;  while  old 
Bob  Kelly  rode  along,  smoking  his  pipe,  appar- 
ently as  unconcerned  as  though  there  was  not  a 


A    FIGHT   WITH   THE   INDIANS.  61 

hostile  Indian  within  a  hundred  miles  of  them. 
Mr.  Winters  evidently  partook  of  the  old  man's 
indifference,  for,  after  satisfying  himself  that  his 
weapons  were  in  readiness,  he  drew  back  beside 
his  nephews,  and  said,  with  a  smile: 

"Well,  boys,  you  may  have  an  opportunity  to 
try  your  skill  on  big  game  now.  This  will  be  a 
little  different  from  the  fight  you  had  in  the  woods 
with  those  Indians  who  stole  your  traps.  Then 
you  had  the  force  on  your  side ;  now  the  savages 
are  the  stronger  party.  But  there  's  no  danger," 
he  added,  quickly  seeing  that  the  boys  looked 
rather  anxious ;  "  every  man  in  the  train  is  a  good 
shot,  and  the  most  of  them  have  been  in  Indian 
fights  before.  I  do  n't  believe  all  the  red-skins  on 
the  prairie  could  whip  us  while  we  have  Dick  and 
Bob  with  us." 

The  boys  themselves  had  great  confidence  in  the 
trappers — especially  Dick,  who,  they  knew,  would 
never  desert  them.  But  even  he  had  several  times 
been  worsted  by  the  Indians.  Frank  thought  of 
the  story  of  the  lost  wagon  train.  But  then  he  re- 
membered that  the  reason  that  train  was  captured, 
was  because  the  emigrants  had  not  "stood  up  to 
the  mark  like  men." 


62  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

All  this  while  the  train  had  been  moving  ahead 
at  a  rapid  pace,  and  many  an  anxious  eye  was  di- 
rected toward  the  solitary  Indian,  who  remained 
standing  where  he  was  first  discovered  until  the 
wagons  had  passed,  when  he  suddenly  and  myste- 
riously disappeared.  All  that  day  the  emigrants 
rode  with  their  weapons  in  their  hands,  in  readiness 
to  repel  an  attack ;  and  when  they  halted  at  noon, 
guards  were  posted  about  the  camp,  and  the  cattle 
were  kept  close  to  the  wagons.  But,  although  now 
and  then  a  single  Indian  would  be  seen  upon  one 
of  the  distant  swells,  the  main  body  kept  out  of 
sight ;  and  the  boys  began  to  hope  that  the  train 
was  considered  too  large  to  be  successfully  at- 
tacked. At  night  old  Bob  Kelly  selected  the 
place  for  the  encampment,  which  was  made  accord- 
ing to  his  directions.  The  wagons  were  drawn  up 
in  a  circle  to  form  a  breastwork,  and  the  cattle 
were  picketed  close  by  under  the  protection  of  a 
strong  guard.  Fires  were  built,  and  preparations 
for  supper  carried  on  as  usual,  for,  of  course,  all 
attempts  at  concealment  would  have  been  time  and 
labor  thrown  away.  As  soon  as  it  began  to  grow 
dark,  the  cattle  were  secured  to  the  wagons  by 
long  stout  ropes,  which,  while  they  allowed  the 


A  FIGHT   WITH   THE   INDIANS.  63 

animals  to  graze,  effectually  prevented  escape. 
Then  guards  were  selected,  and  the  emigrants 
made  every  preparation  to  give  '  the  savages  a 
warm  reception,  in  case  they  should  make  a  dash 
upon  the  camp.  No  one  thought  of  his  blanket. 
The  idea  of  going  to  sleep  while  a  band  of  Indians 
was  hovering  about,  watching  their  opportunity  to 
pounce  down  upon  them,  was  out  of  the  question. 
The  two  trappers,  after  satisfying  themselves  that 
every  thing  was  in  readiness  for  an  attack,  began  to 
station  the  guards.  Frank  again  thought  of  the 
story  Dick  had  related  of  the  lost  wagon  train,  and, 
desiring  to  witness  an  exhibition  of  the  skill  that  had 
enabled  him  to  detect  the  presence  of  the  Indians 
on  that  occasion,  proposed  to  Archie  that  they 
should  stand  guard  with  him.  The  latter,  who  al- 
ways felt  safe  when  in  the  company  of  their  guide, 
agreed ;  and  when  the  trapper  started  off  with  the 
guards,  he  was  surprised  to  find  the  boys  at  his 
side. 

"  Whar  are  you  goin'  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  want  to  stand  guard  with  you ! "  replied 
Frank. 

"  Wai,  I  never  did  see  sich  keerless  fellers  as 
you  be,"  said  the  trapper.  "You  get  wusser  an' 


64  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

wusser.  Much  you  don't  know  about  this  bisness. 
I  guess  you  had  better  stay  here  whar  you  're 
safe." 

"  Wai,  wal !  "  said  old  Bob  Kelly,  who  was  not  a 
little  astonished  at  the  request  the  boys  had  made, 
"  they  ?ve  got  the  real  grit  in  'em,  that 's  a  fact, 
if  they  are  green  as  punkins  in  Injun  fightin'.  A 
few  year  on  the  prairy  would  make  'em  as  good  as 
me  or  you,  Dick  Lewis.  But  you'll  get  enough 
of  Injuns  afore  you  see  daylight  ag'in,  youngsters. 
So  you  had  better  stay  here." 

So  saying  he  shouldered  his  rifle,  and,  followed 
by  the  guards,  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  The 
boys  reluctantly  returned  to  their  wagon,  where 
they  found  Uncle  James,  seated  on  the  ground, 
whistling  softly  to  himself,  and  apparently  indiffer- 
ent as  to  the  course  the  Indians  might  see  fit  to 
adopt.  But  still  he  had  not  neglected  to  make 
preparations  to  receive  them,  for  his  rifle  stood 
leaning  against  one  of  the  wheels  of  the  wagon, 
and  he  carried  his  revolvers  in  his  belt.  The  boys 
silently  seated  themselves  on  the  ground  beside 
him,  and  awaited  the  issue  of  events  with  their 
feelings  worked  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excite- 
ment. The  fires  had  burned  low,  but  still  there 


A  FIGHT   WITH   THE   INDIANS.  65 

was  light  sufficient  to  enable  them  to  discover  the 
emigrants  stretched  on  the  ground  about  the  wag- 
ons, talking  to  one  another  in  whispers,  as  if  al- 
most afraid  to  break  the  stillness  that  brooded  over 
the  camp,  and  which  was  interrupted  only  by  the 
barking  of  the  prairie  wolves,  and  the  neighing 
and  tramping  of  the  horses.  Two  hours  were 
passed  in  this  way,  when  suddenly  the  sharp  report 
of  a  rifle,  accompanied  by  a  terrific  yell,  rang  out 
on  the  air,  causing  the  emigrants  to  grasp  their 
weapons  and  spring  to  their  feet  in  alarm.  For 
an  instant  all  was  silent  again.  The  stillness  was 
so  deep  that  Frank  thought  the  camp  was  suddenly 
deserted.  Then  a  long  drawn  out  whoop  arose 
fro.m  the  prairie,  followed  by  a  chorus  of  yells  that 
struck  terror  to  more  than  one  heart  in  that  wagon 
train.  Then  came  a  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs ;  the 
yells  grew  louder  and  louder ;  and  the  boys  knew 
that  the  Indians  were  coming  toward  them.  The 
emigrants  rushed  to  the  wagons,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment the  savages  swept  by.  The  boys  saw  a  con- 
fused mass  of  rapidly-moving  horsemen ;  heard  the 
most  terrific  yells,  the  report  of  fire-arms,  and  the 
struggles  of  the  frightened  cattle  as  they  attempted 
to  escape,  and  then  all  was  over.  The  Indians  de- 


66  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

parted  as  rapidly  as  they  had  come,  and  the  boys, 
bewildered  by  the  noise,  had  not  fired  a  shot.  On 
the  contrary,  they  stood  holding  their  rifles  in  their 
hands,  as  if  they  had  suddenly  forgotten  how  to  use 
them.  Uncle  James,  however,  was  not  confused. 
He  had  heard  the  war-whoop  before,  and  as  he 
came  out  from  behind  the  wagon,  he  began  to  re- 
load one  of  his  revolvers,  remarking  as  he  did  so : 

"  There  are  some  less  in  that  band,  I  know." 

"  Did  you  shoot  ?  "  asked  Archie,  drawing  a  long 
breath  of  relief  to  know  that  the  danger  was  past,. 
"  Why,  I  did  n't  have  time  to  fire  a  shot." 

"  That  's  'because  you  were  frightened,"  replied 
Mr.  Winters.  "  You  see  I  have  been  in  skirmishes 
like  this  before,  and  their  yells  don't  make  me 
nervous.  I  had  five  good  shots  at  them,  and  I 
don't  often  miss." 

"  I  say,  youngsters,  are  you  all  right  ? "  ex- 
claimed Dick,  who  at  this  moment  came  up. 
"  See  here  !  I  've  got  two  fellers'  top-knots.  Bless 
you,  they  aint  scalps,"  he  continued,  as  the  boys 
drew  back.  "  They  're  only  the  feathers  the  In- 
juns wear  in  their  har.  I  don't  scalp  Clieyennes, 
'cause  I  don't  keer  'bout  'em.  I  make  war  on  'em 
'cause  it's  natur.  But  when  I  knock  over  a  Co- 


A  FIGHT   WITH   THE   INDIANS.  67 

manche,  I  take  his  liar  jest  to  'member  ole  Bill  by. 
But,  youngsters,  war  n't  that  jolly!  I  haven't 
heered  a  Injun  yell  fur  more'n  a  year,  an  it  makes 
me  feel  to  hum.  You  can  take  these  feathers,  an' 
when  you  get  back  to  Lawrence,  tell  the  folks  thar 
that  the  Injuns  that  wore  'em  onct  attacked  the 
train  you  belonged  to." 

The  emigrants'  first  care,  after  having  satisfied 
themselves  that  the  Indians  had  gone,  was  to  count 
their  stock ;  and  more  than  one  had  to  mourn  the 
loss  of  a  favorite  horse  or  mule,  which  had  escaped 
and  gone  off  with  the  Indians.  Mr.  Winters,  how- 
ever, had  lost  nothing — the  trapper  having  tied  the 
animals  so  securely  that  escape  was  impossible. 
Not  a  person  in  the  train  was  injured — the  only 
damage  sustained  being  in  the  canvas  covers  of  the 
wagons,  which  were  riddled  with  bullets  and  ar- 
rows. 

The  boys  were  still  far  from  feeling  safe,  and 
probably  would  not  have  gone  to  bed  that  night 
had  they  not  seen  the  trappers  spreading  their 
blankets  near  the  wagon.  This  re-assured  them, 
for  those  men  never  would  have  thought  of  rest  if 
there  had  been  the  least  probability  that  the  Indi- 
ans would  return.  So  the  boys  took  their  beds  out 


68  PRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

of  the  wagon  and  placed  them  beside  those  of  Dick 
and  his  companion,  who  were  talking  over  the 
events  of  the  night. 

"  This  bisness  of  fightin'  Injuns,  youngsters," 
said  the  former,  "is  one  that  aint  larnt  out  of 
books,  nor  in  the  woods  about  Lawrence.  If  you 
had  a-been  with  us,  you  would  a  seed  that.  Now, 
when  I  fust  went  out  thar,  you  could  n't  'a'  told 
that  thar  war  a  red-skin  on  the  prairy.  But  I  laid 
my  ear  to  the  ground,  an'  purty  quick  I  heerd  a 
rumblin'  like,  an'  I  knowed  the  noise  war  made  by 
hosses.  Arter  that,  I  heerd  a  rustlin'  in  the  grass, 
an'  seed  a  Injun  sneakin'  along,  easy  like,  t'wards 
the  camp.  So  I  drawed  up  my  ole  shootin'  iron, 
an'  done  the  bisness  fur  him,  an'  then  started  fur 
the  camp,  loadin'  my  rifle  as  I  ran.  In  course 
the  Injuns  seed  then  that  it  war  n't  no  use  to  go 
a-foolin'  with  us,  so  they  all  set  up  a  yell,  an'  here 
they  come.  I  dodged  under  the  wagon,  an'  as 
they  went  by,  I  give  'em  another  shot,  an'  seed  a 
red-skin  go  off  dead." 

"  Go  off  dead !  "  repeated  Frank.  "  How  could 
he  go  off  when  he  was  dead  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  the  trapper,  with  a  laugh,  in  which 
he  was  joined  by  old  Bob  Kelly,  "every  one  of 


A   FIGHT   WITH    THE   INDIANS.  69 

them  Injuns  war  tied  fast  to  his  hoss,  so  thac  if 
he  war  killed  he  would  n't  fall  off;  an',  in  course, 
his  hoss  would  keep  on  with  the  rest,  an'  carry 
him  away.  I  seed  more  'n  one  Injun  go  off  dead 
to-night,  an'  the  way  I  come  to  get  them  feathers, 
b'longin'  to  them  two  chaps,  war,  that  somebody 
had  shot  their  bosses.  I  seed  'em  on  the  ground, 
tryin'  to  cut  themselves  loose  from  their  saddles, 
so  I  run  up  an'  settled  'em.  That  war  four  I 
rubbed  out.  Good-night,  youngsters.  You  need  n't 
be  afraid,  'cause  they  won't  come  back  again  to- 
night." 

As  the  trapper  spoke,  he  placed  his  cap  under 
his  head  for  a  pillow,  re-arranged  his  blanket,  and 
was  soon  in  a  sound  sleep. 

During  the  next  two  weeks  nothing  occurred  to 
relieve  the  monotony  of  the  journey.  The  train 
took  up  its  line  of  march  at  daylight,  halted  at 
noon  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  shortly  after  sunset 
encamped  for  the  night.  The  fight  with  the  Indians 
had  not  driven  all  thoughts  of  the  antelopes  out  of 
the  boys'  minds.  And  while  the  train  journeyed 
along  the  road,  they  scoured  the  prairie,  in  search 
of  the  wished-for  game.  The  appearance  of  the 
"  sea  of  grass,"  which  stretched  away  on  all  sides, 


70  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

as  far  as  their  eyes  could  reach,  not  a  little  surprised 
them.  Instead  of  the  perfectly  level  plain  they  had 
expected  to  see,  the  surface  of  the  prairie  was 
broken  by  gentle  swells,  like  immense  waves  of  the 
ocean,  and  here  and  there — sometimes  two  or  three 
days'  journey  apart — were  small  patches  of  woods, 
called  "oak  openings." 

One  night  they  made  their  camp  in  sight  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  While  the  trapper  was 
cooking  their  supper,  he  said  to  the  boys,  who 
had  thrown  themselves  on  the  ground  near  the 
wagon : 

"  It  aint  fur  from  here  that  me  an'  ole  Bill  Law- 
son  lost  that  wagon  train.  I  never  travel  along 
here  that  I  do  n't  think  of  that  night,  an'  I  some- 
times feel  my  cap  rise  on  my  head,  jest  as  it  did 
when  them  Injuns  come  pourin'  into  the  camp. 
But  the  varlets  have  been  pushed  back  further  an* 
further,  an'  now  a  feller 's  as  safe  here  as  he  would 
be  in  Fort  Laramie.  The  ole  bar's  hole  aint 
more  'n  fifty  mile  from  here,  an'  if  your  uncle 
do  n't  mind  the  ride,  I  should  like  to  show  you  the 
cave  that  has  so  often  sarved  me  fur  a  hidin'- 
place." 

The  boys  looked  toward  Mr.  Winters,  who,  hav- 


A   FIGHT   WITH   THE  INDIANS.  71 

ing  frequently  heard  the  guide  speak  of  the  "  ole 
bar's  hole,"  felt  some  curiosity  to  see  it.  So,  af- 
ter being  assured  by  both  the  trappers  that  there 
was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended,  he  gave  his  con- 
sent, remarking: 

"We  are  in  no  hurry.  I  don't  suppose  there 
is  any  possibility  of  being  lost  so  long  as  we  have 
Dick  and  Bob  for  guides;  so  we  will  go  there,  and 
take  a  week's  rest  and  a  hunt." 

The  boys  were  delighted,  and  the  next  morning, 
when  the  train  resumed  its  journey,  the  emigrants 
were  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Winters' 
wagon  moving  off  byNitself. 

That  night,  when  oiir  travelers  encamped,  they 
were  thirty  miles  from  the  train,  and  about  the 
same  distance  from  the  "  ole  bar's  hole."  The 
mountains  were  plainly  visible,  and  the  boys  could 
scarcely  believe  that  they  were  nearly  a  day's 
journey  distant.  They  were  certain  that  a  ride 
of  an  hour  or  two  would  bring  them  to  the  willows 
that  skirted  their  base. 

"  'T  aint  the  fust  time  I  've  seed  fellers  fooled 
'bout  sich  things,"  said  Dick.  "Do  you  see  that 
'ar  high  peak  ?  "  he  continued,  pointing  to  a  single 
mountain  that  rose  high  above  the  others.  "  Wai, 


72  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

thar's  whar  the  ole  bar's  hole  is.  If  we  reach  it 
afore  dark  to-morrer  night,  I  '11  agree  to  set  you 
down  in  Sacramento  in  two  weeks." 

The  boys  were  still  far  from  being  convinced, 
and  they  went  to  sleep  that  night  fully  believing 
that  they  would  reach  the  mountains  by  noon  the 
next  day. 


LOST   ON   THE   PRAIRIE.  73 


CHAPTER   VI. 


HE  next  morning,  by  the  time  the  sun 
had  risen,  the  travelers  had-  eaten  their 
breakfast,  and  were  again  on  the  move. 
The  entire  party  was  in  high  spirits. 
The  trappers  laughed  and  joked  with 
each  other,  and  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Win- 
ters the  familiar  objects  that  met  their 
eye  on  every  side,  while  the  boys  galloped  on  be- 
fore, and  in  a  few  moments  had  left  the  wagon  far 
behind.  Their  horses  were  in  excellent  trim,  and 
bounded  along  over  the  prairie  as  if  some  of  their 
riders'  spirits  had  been  infused  into  them. 

"  I  say,  Frank,"  said  Archie,  at  length,  sud- 
denly drawing  in  his  rein,  "  what  if  Dick  was  mis- 
taken about  the  Indians  all  being  gone,  and  a  party 
of  Cornanches  should  suddenly  pounce  down  on  us  ? 
Would  n't  we  be  in  a  fix  ?  I  declare,  I  see  an  In- 


74  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

dian  now,"  he  added;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  pointed 
toward  an  object  that  could  be  dimly  seen  moving 
along  the  summit  of  a  distant  swell. 

"  That 's  something,  that 's  a  fact,"  said  Frank, 
gazing  in  the  direction  indicated;  "but  it  don't 
look  like  that  Indian  we  saw  the  other  day.  If  it 
was  a  Comanche,  he  wouldn't  move  about  and 
show  himself  so  plainly.  There's  another — and 
another,"  he  continued,  as  several  more  objects 
came  over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  "  Let  us  ride  up 
a  little  nearer.  If  they  are  Indians,  we  can  easily 
reach  the  wagon  before  they  can  overtake  us." 

"Well,  come  on,"  said  Archie.  "If  we  should 
get  into  a  fight  all  by  ourselves,  and  come  safely 
out  of  it,  it  would  be  something  to  talk  about, 
would  n't  it?" 

The  boys  rode  cautiously  toward  the  objects, 
which  were  still  increasing  in  number,  holding 
themselves  in  readiness  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  in 
case  they  should  prove  to  be  Indians,  until  they 
had  gone  about  half  a  mile,  when  Frank  suddenly 
exclaimed : 

"  They  are  antelopes  ! " 

"  Are  they  ?  "  asked  Archie,  excitedly.  "  Let 's 
shoot  one  of  'em,"  and,  springing  from  his  saddle, 


LOST   ON  THE   PRAIRIE.  75 

he  began  to  unbuckle  his  halter  and  hobble  his 
horse,  as  he  had  seen  the  trapper  do  on  a  former 
occasion. 

Frank  followed  his  example,  and  then,  securing 
their  rifles,  they  threw  themselves  on  their  hands 
and  knees,  and  began  to  crawl  toward  the  game, 
which  was  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  distant.  But 
that  was  no  obstacle  to  the  boys  then.  They 
would  willingly  have  gone  twice  that  far  to  have  a 
shot  at  an  antelope,  if  for  nothing  more  than  to 
show  the  trapper  that  they  were  better  hunters 
than  he  had  supposed.  It  is  true  they  did  not  ex- 
pect to  succeed,  but  the  name  "antelope  killers" 
was  well  worth  trying  for,  and  they  determined  to 
do  their  best.  They  crawled  along  slowly  and  as 
carefully  as  possible,  pausing  now  and  then  to  look 
over  the  grass  at  the  animals,  which,  to  their  delight, 
they  found  were  feeding  directly  toward  them. 

"  I  do  n't  think  it  is  safe  to  go  much  further," 
said  Frank,  after  they  had  crawled  nearly  half  the 
distance  in  this  manner.  "Let's  stop  and  see 
what  we  can  do." 

"  Well,"  said  Archie.  "  If  you  will  hold  up 
your  handkerchief  on  your  ramrod,  I'll  try  and 
shoot  one  of  them,  if  they  come  near  enough." 


76  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

Frank,  in  compliance  with  his  cousin's  sugges- 
tion, drew  his  ramrod  from  his  gun,  fastened  his 
handkerchief  to  it,  and,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
back,  carefully  raised  it  above  the  grass.  While 
in  this  position  he  could  not,  of  course,  see  the 
movements  of  the  game ;  but  Archie  kept  vigilant 
watch,  and  at  length  whispered : 

"  They  see  it !     They  're  coming  ! " 

The  animals  had,  in  reality,  caught  sight  of  the 
handkerchief,  and,  after  regarding  it  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, they  began  to  approach  it — a  fine  large 
buck  leading  the  way. 

Now  the  boys  knew  that  the  hunt  began  in  earnest. 
The  least  awkward  movement  on  their  part — the 
exposure  of  the  smallest  portion  of  their  bodies,  or 
the  slightest  noise  in  the  grass — might,  as  Archie 
expressed  it,  "knock  the  whole  thing  in  the  head." 
Frank  lay  perfectly  quiet,  watching  the  movements 
of  his  cousin ;  and  he  could  tell,  by  the  expression 
of  his  countenance,  pretty  near  what  the  game  was 
doing.  When  the  antelopes  stopped — which  they 
did  every  few  feet — Archie  put  on  an  exceedingly 
long  face,  as  if  fearful  that  they  were  about  to  turn 
and  run;  and  when  they  approached,  the  fact 
would  be  indicated  by  a  broad  grin  and  a  nervous 


LOST  ON   THE   PRAIRIE.  77 

twitching  at  the  lock  of  his  gun.  For  fully  half  an 
hour — it  seemed  much  longer  to  the  impatient 
boys — they  remained  in  their  place  of  conceal- 
ment ;  but  at  length  their  patience  was  rewarded, 
for  the  game  was  within  easy  rifle  range.  In  an 
instant  Archie's  nervousness  all  vanished,  and 
Frank  almost  held  his  breath  when  he  saw  him 
slowly,  inch  by  inch,  raise  his  gun  to  his  shoul- 
der. He  took  a  long,  steady  aim,  pulled  the  trig- 
ger, and  sprung  from  the  ground,  shouting : 

"  I've  got  him!     I've  got  him!" 

Frank  was  on  his  feet  almost  as  soon  as  his 
cousin,  and,  to  his  delight,  saw  the  leader  of  the 
antelopes  struggling  on  the  ground,  while  the  rest 
of  the  herd  were  scampering  away  at  the  top  of 
their  speed. 

"What  will  Dick  and  Bob  say  now?"  exclaimed 
Archie,  who  skipped  about  as  though  he  were  al- 
most beside  himself.  "What  will  they — hold  on — 
hold  on — shoot  him,  Frank ! "  he  shouted.  "  We  're 
going  to  lose  him  after  all." 

Archie's  shot  had  not  been  fatal.  The  buck  was 
only  disabled  for  a  moment,  and,  after  a  few  strug- 
gles, he  succeeded  in  regaining  his  feet,  and  started 
to  run.  Had  his  cousin  been  as  excited  as  he  was, 


78  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

they  certainly  would  have  had  all  their  trouble  for 
nothing,  for  Archie,  instead  of  stopping  to  reload, 
dropped  his  gun  and  started  in  pursuit  of  the 
wounded  animal,  which — although  he  ran  but 
slowly — was  fast  leaving  him  behind,  when  Frank, 
by  an  excellent  shot,  again  brought  him  to  the 
ground.  This  time  the  wound  was  fatal ;  but  Ar- 
chie, to  put  all  further  attempts  at  escape  out  of 
the  question,  ran  up  and  seized  the  buck  by  the 
horns. 

"He's  done  for  now,"  said  Frank,  as  he  pro- 
ceeded to  reload  his  rifle;  "I  shot  him  through 
the  head." 

"I  see  you  did,"  replied  his  cousin,  still  retain- 
ing his  hold  upon  the  antelope;  "but  there's  no 
knowing  what  he  might  do.  I  wouldn't  trust 
him."  And  it  was  not  until  he  had  turned  the 
deer  over  several  times,  and  fully  satisfied  himself 
that  he  had  ceased  to  breathe,  that  Archie  released 
him. 

"What  will  Dick  and  Bob  say  now?"  he  con- 
tinued, as  Frank  came  up,  and  they  began  to  exam- 
ine their  prize,  which  was  much  larger  than  the 
one  the  trapper  had  killed.  "  You  know  they  said 
we  couldn't  shoot  an  antelope.  Now,  the  next 


LOST   ON   THE   PKAIRIE.  79 

thing  is  to  get  him  back  to  the  wagon.  He  's  too 
heavy  for  us  to  carry,  so  if  you  '11  stay  here,  and 
watch  him  and  keep  the  wolves  off,  I  '11  go  back 
arid  get  the  horses." 

Frank  agreed  to  this  arrangement,  and  Archie, 
after  he  had  found  and  reloa^d  his  gun,  started 
off  after  the  horses.  He  was  gone  almost  two 
hours — so  long  that  Frank  began  to  be  uneasy ; 
but  at  length  he  appeared,  riding  post-haste  over 
a  neighboring  swell,  mounted  on  Sleepy  Sam,  and 
leading  Pete  by  the  bridle.  As  soon  as  he  came 
within  speaking  distance,  he  exclaimed,  with 
blanched  cheeks: 

"  Frank,  we  're  lost !  I  can't  see  the  wagon  any 
where." 

" Do  n't  be  uneasy,"  replied  his  cousin,  .who, 
although  thoroughly  alarmed  by  this  announce- 
ment, appeared  to  be  perfectly  unconcerned. 
"Don't  be  uneasy." 

"  But  I  have  n't  seen  the  wagon  since  we  left  it 
this  morning,"  persisted  Archie.  "I  thought  it 
was  close  behind  us.  I  tell  you  we  're  lost." 

"  Oh  no,  I  guess  not,"  answered  Frank,  as  he 
lifted  the  antelope  from  the  ground  and  placed  it 
on  the  saddle  before  his  cousin.  "  The  wagon  is 


80  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

no  doubt  behind  some  of  these  hills.  Besides, 
Uncle  James  won't  be  long  in  hunting  us  up." 

"I  wouldn't  stay  alone  on  the  prairie  to-night 
for  any  thing,"  said  Archie.  "  I  know  it  would  n't 
be  the  first  time  I  have  camped  out,  but  then  there 
are  no  wild  Indians  in  the  woods  about  Law- 
rence." 

Frank  had  by  this  time  mounted  his  horse,  and 
together  they  set  out  at  a  rapid  gallop  to  find  the 
wagon.  The  mountain  which  Dick  had  pointed 
out  the  night  before  was  plainly  visible,  and  the 
boys  determined  to  travel  toward  it  with  all  possi- 
ble speed,  in  hopes  that  they  would  overtake  their 
friends  before  they  halted  for  the  night.  Frank 
thought  the  wagon  could  not  be  far  off,  and  every 
hill  they  mounted  he  gazed  about  him  as  if  fully 
expecting  to  discover  it ;  but,  after  riding  an  hour 
without  seeing  any  signs  of  it,  he  began  to  be  a 
good  deal  of  his  cousin's  opinion,  that  they  were 
lost.  But  he  made  no  remark,  for  he  knew  that  a 
good  deal  depended  upon  keeping  up  Archie's 
courage. 

"We  have  not  been  gone  from  the  wagon  three 
hours,'"  said  he,  "and  they  haven't  had  time  to 
get  very  far  away  from  us.  We  '11  find  them  be- 


LOST   ON    THE   PRAIRIE.  81 

hind  some  of  these  swells.  Perhaps  we  '11  be  in 
time  to  give  them  a  piece  of  our  antelope  for 
dinner." 

Archie  made  no  reply,  for  he  derived  no  en- 
couragement from  this ;  but  he  silently  followed 
his  cousin,  who  led  the  way  at  a  rapid  gallop, 
riding  over  this  swell,  and  turning  round  that,  as 
though  he  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  ground 
over  which  they  were  traveling.  For  two  long 
hours  they  kept  on  in  this  way,  almost  without 
speaking,  each  time  they  mounted  a  hill  straining 
their  eyes  in  every  direction,  in  the  hope  of  dis- 
covering the  wagon.  Sometimes  they  were  almost 
certain  they  saw  its  white  cover  in  the  distance ; 
but  upon  taking  a  second  look,  it  proved  to  have 
been  merely  a  creation  of  their  imagination;  and 
Frank  began  to  be  discouraged.  To  add  to  their 
discomfort,  the  heat  was  almost  intolerable,  and 
they  began  to  be  tortured  with  thirst.  Their  "ani- 
mals also  appeared  to  be  suffering,  for  they  paid 
less  attention  to  the  spur,  and  were  constantly 
jerking  at  the  reins,  and  endeavoring  to  go  in  a 
direction  almost  contrary  to  that  which  the  boys 
desired.  The  hours  seemed  lengthened  into  ages, 
arid  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  had 
6 


82  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

seen   no   signs  of  the  wagon,  and  the  mountains 
appeared  to  be  as  far  off  as  ever. 

"  There 's  no  use  talking,"  said  Archie,  at  length, 
reining  in  his  horse,  "  I  can't  stand  this  any  lon- 
ger, I  'm  so  thirsty." 

"But  what  else  can  we  do?"  asked  Frank,  in  a 
husky  voice,  for  his  tongue  was  so  parched  that  he 
could  scarcely  talk  plainly.  "We  can't  find  our 
friends,  or  water  either,  by  staying  here.  We 
must  go  on." 

As  he  spoke,  he  again  spurred  his  horse  into  a 
gallop,  Archie,  as  before,  following  after  him,  now 
and  then  looking  down  at  the  antelope,  which  lay 
across  his  saddle — and  which  he  considered  to  be 
the  cause  of  all  their  trouble — as  though  he  hearti- 
ly wished  him  safe  among  the  others  of  the  herd. 
Two  miles  more  were  passed,  but  still  no  signs  of 
water.  The  idea  of  finding  the  wagon  had  now 
given  away  to  a  desire  to  discover  some  stream 
where  they  might  quench  their  thirst,  which 
was  becoming  almost  unbearable.  But  the  dry, 
parched  prairie  stretched  away  on  each  side  of 
them,  while  in  front  loomed  the  mountains,  appar- 
ently as  distant  as  when  they  started  in  the  morn- 
ing. Their  horses  grew  more  and  more  restive. 


LOST   ON  THE   PRAIRIE.  83 

Upon  applying  the  spur,  they  would  gallop  for  a  few 
yards,  and  then  settle  down  into  a  slow  walk,  turn- 
ing their  heads  and  pulling  at  the  reins  as  if  anx- 
ious to  go  in  a  contrary  direction.  This  set  Frank 
to  thinking.  He  had  often  read  of  the  remarkable 
sagacity  sometimes  displayed  by  the  horse — how 
the  animal  had  been  known  to  carry  his  lost  rider 
safely  into  the  midst  of  his  friends — and,  turning  to 
his  cousin,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Archie,  I  'm  going  to  let  Pete  take  his  own 
course.  Both  the  horses  want  to  go  back,  so  let 's 
see  where  they  will  take  us  to.  We  can't  be  in  a 
much  worse  fix  than  we  are  now." 

As  he  spoke,  he  threw  the  reins  on  his  horse's 
neck,  and  the  animal,  finding  himself  at  liberty,  at 
once  turned,  and,  pricking  up  his  ears,  galloped  off 
exactly  at  right  angles  with  the  course  they  had 
been  pursuing.  Archie,  too  dispirited  to  raise  any 
objections,  followed  his  cousin's  example,  and  the 
old  buffalo  hunter,  which,  during  the  last  two 
hours,  had  traveled  with  his  head  down,  as  if 
scarcely  able  to  take  another  step,  snuffed  the  air 
and  bounded  off  at  a  rapid  pace.  For  an  hour  the 
animals  tore  along  at  a  tremendous  rate;  but  dis- 
covering no  signs  of  the  wagon,  Frank  was  rapidly 


84  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

losing  faith  in  the  sagacity  of  his  horse,  when,  as 
they  came  suddenly  around  the  base  of  a  swell, 
they  found  before  them  a  long  line  of  willows. 
Toward  this  the  animals  made  their  way  with  in- 
creased speed,  carrying  their  riders  through  the 
trees  into  a  stream  of  clear,  running  water. 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  85 


CHAPTER   VII 


HE  horses  did  not  stop  on  the  bank, 
but,  in  spite  of  the  desperate  efforts  of 
the  boys,  kept  on,  until  the  water 
reached  half  way  to  their  backs.  The 
old  buffalo  hunter,  not  satisfied  with 
this,  persisted  in  lying  down  ;  and  Ar- 
chie and  the  antelope  were  deposited  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  Under  any  other  cir- 
cumstances, the  young  hunter  would  have  been 
angry  ;  but,  as  it  was,  the  cool  bath  was  most  re- 
freshing after  his  long  ride  over  the  dry  prairie, 
under  the  hot,  scorching  sun  ;  so  seizing  the  an- 
telope, he  dragged  him  to  the  shore,  leaving  his 
horse  to  take  care  of  himself. 

Thirsty  as  the  boys  were,  they  still  retained 
their  presence  of  mind;  instead  of  endangering 
his  life  by  drinking  freely  of  the  water,  Archie 


86  FRANK    ON   TIIE    PRAIRIE. 

contented  himself  with  repeatedly  bathing  his 
head,  while  Frank,  who  was  still  in  his  saddle, 
reached  down  and  scooped  up  a  few  drops  in  his 
hand. 

"I  say,  Frank,  isn't  this  glorious?"  said  Ar- 
chie at  length,  as  he  divested  himself  of  his  coat, 
which  he  hung  upon  a  limb  to  dry.  "But  it's 
lucky  that  my  ammunition  is  water-proof.  If  you 
had  been  in  my  fix,  you  would  n't  be  able  to  do 
much  more  shooting  until  we  got  back  to  our 
wagon.  I  declare,  it's  getting  dark.  Where  do 
you  suppose  that  wagon  is  ?  If  we  do  n't  find  it 
inside  of  fifteen  minutes,  we  shall  have  to  camp." 

"  Let 's  stay  here,"  said  Frank,  as  he  rode  his 
horse  out  of  the  water,  and  fastened  him  to  a  tree. 
"We  must  stay  somewhere  all  night,  and  this  is 
as  good  a  camping-ground  as  we  can  find." 

"If  Dick  or  Bob  was  here,"  said  Archie,  "I 
would  n't -mind  it ;  but  I  do  n't  like  the  idea  of  our 
staying  here  alone.  This  is  the  worst  scrape  I 
was  ever  in;  but  if  I  once  get  along-side  of  that 
wagon  again,  I  '11  stay  there." 

"  Oh,  you  've  been  in  worse  scrapes  than  this," 
said  Frank,  who  saw  that  his  cousin  was  losing 
heart  again. 


THE    TRAPPER'S   REMINISCENCE.  87 

"IM  like  to  know  when  and  where?"  said  Ar- 
chie, looking  up  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  you  were  in  a  much  more  dangerous  sit- 
uation while  you  were  hanging  by  that  limb,  fifty 
feet  from  the  ground,  when  you  were  after  that 
'coon  that  led  you  such  a  long  chase." 

"I  can't  see  it,"  replied  Archie.  "I  knew  that 
if  I  got  down  safe,  I  would  be  among  friends,  and 
if  I  had  to  camp  in  the  woods  there  would  be  no 
Comanches  or  grizzly  bears  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  jump  down  on  me.  I  say,  Frank,  there  may 
be  grizzly  bears  about  here,"  and  Archie  peered 
through  the  trees,  reaching  rather  hurriedly  for  his 
gun,  as  if  fully  expecting  to  see  one  of  those  fero- 
cious animals  advancing  upon  him.  "  But  what  are 
you  about?"  he  continued,  as  he  saw  Frank  re- 
moving the  saddle  from  his  horse. 

"I'm  getting  ready  to  camp,"  replied  Frank, 
coolly. 

Archie  at  first  strongly  objected  to  this,  but  Frank 
finally  carried  the  day,  by  assuring  him  that  it  was 
the  much  better  plan  to  "  take  matters  easy,"  and 
wait  for  daylight,  when  they  would  again  set  out. 
Besides,  if  they  traveled  in  the  dark,  they  might  go 
miles  out  of  their  way.  Archie,  although  not  con- 


88  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

vinced,  finally  agreed  to  his  cousin's  proposition, 
remarking : 

"  If  you  were  in  the  fourth  story  of  a  burning 
house,  I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't  talk  of  taking 
matters  easy  ?  " 

It  was  settled  then  that  they  should  remain  where 
they  were  for  the  night,  and  they  began  to  make 
preparations  accordingly.  Archie's  horse  was  re- 
lieved of  the  saddle,  and,  after  both  the  animals 
had  been  led  on  to  the  prairie,  they  were  hobbled 
and  left  to  graze.  Frank  then  began  to  skin  and 
dress  the  buck,  while  Archie  gathered  a  supply  of 
wood,  and  kindled  a  fire.  In  half  an  hour  several 
slices  of  venison  were  broiling  on  the  coals,  and  the 
boys  were  lying  before  the  fire,  talking  over  the 
events  of  the  day,  and  wondering  what  Dick  and 
Bob  would  say  when  they  learned  that  their 
"  youngsters  "  had  killed  an  antelope,  when  they 
were  startled  by  a  well-known  bark,  and  the  next 
moment  Useless  came  bounding  through  the  trees 
into  the  very  center  of  the  camp,  where  he  frisked 
and  jumped  about  with  every  demonstration  of  joy. 
The  boys  had  scarcely  recovered  from  their  alarm, 
when  they  heard  a  familiar  voice  exclaim : 

"  Bar  an'  buffaler !     You  keerless  fellers  !  "  and 


89 


the  trapper  came  through  the  willows  with  long, 
impatient  strides. 

The  boys  were  always  glad  to  see  Dick,  but 
words  are  too  feeble  to  express  the  joy  they  felt  at 
his  sudden  and  wholly  unexpected  appearance. 
For  a  moment  they  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power 
of  speech. 

The  trapper  glanced  hastily  from  one  to  the 
other,  took  in  at  a  glance  the  preparations  for  the 
night,  and,  dropping  the  butt  of  his  rifle  heavily  to 
the  ground,  again  ejaculated : 

"  You  keerless  fellers  !  " 

"What's  the  matter,  Dick?"  asked  Archie, 
whose  spirits  were  now  as  exalted  as  they  had  be- 
fore been  depressed.  "  We  're  all  right.  Sit  down 
and  have  some  supper." 

"Youngsters,"  said  the  trapper,  seating  himself 
on  the  ground,  and  depositing  his  rifle  beside  him, 
"  I  jest  knowed  I  would  find  you  all  right.  Now, 
tell  me  whar  have  you  been,  anj  what  a  doin'  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Archie,  jumping 
up  and  pointing  to  the  remains  of  the  antelope, 
which  Frank  had  hung  up  on  a  tree.  "  Do  you 
see  it?  You  said  we  couldn't  kill  a  prong-horn, 
but  we  've  done  it." 


90  FRANK   ON   TEE   PRAIRIE. 

The  boys  then  proceeded  to  recount  their  adven- 
tures, telling  the  trapper  how  they  had  killed  the 
antelope,  of  their  long  ride  under  the  scorching 
sun,  and  how  at  last  their  horses  had  brought  them 
to  the  water — to  all  of  which  the  trapper  listened 
with  amazement,  and  feelings  of  admiration  that  he 
could  not  disguise. 

"  Wai,"  said  he,  when  they  had  concluded,  "  I 
won't  tell  you  to  try  it  over  ag'in,  'cause  you  can't 
allers  be  so  lucky." 

"  What  did  uncle  say  ? "  inquired  Archie,  who 
was  rather  apprehensive  of  a  "  lecture." 

"Oh,  he  knowed  as  how  thar  war  no  Tnjuns  to 
massacre  you,  an'  when  we  camped  fur  noon,  I 
Leered  him  say,  i  I  wonder  what  the  boys  have  got 
fur  dinner V  I  knowed  me  and  Useless  could  easy 
find  you.  That  ar  dog  knowed  jest  as  well  that  I 
war  arter  you  as  I  did  myself." 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  whenever  you  get  ready, 
we'll  go  back  to  the  camp." 

"  To  camp  ! "  repeated  the  trapper.  "  Haint  you 
rid  fur  enough  yet?  Can  you  stand  twenty  miles 
more  to-night?" 

"  Twenty  miles ! "  echoed  both  the  boys,  in  sur- 
prise. 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  91 

"  Sartin !  You  're  further  away  from  the  ole 
bar's  hole  now  than  you  were  last  night." 

The  young  hunters  were  astonished.  Although 
they  had  had  the  Rocky  Mountains  for  a  guide- 
post,  they  had  been  completely  turned  round,  and 
had  actually  traveled  ten  miles  back  toward  St. 
Joseph. 

"That's  what  comes  of  not  knowin'  nothin' 
'bout  the  prairy ! "  continued  the  trapper,  helping 
himself  to  a  piece  of  the  venison.  "  But  we  '11 
stay  here  to-night,  an'  strike  fur  camp  in  the 
mornin'." 

The  boys  were  very  well  satisfied  with  this  ar- 
rangement, for  their  long  ride  had  wearied  them, 
and  Archie  was  willing  to  brave  grizzly  bears,  so 
long  as  he  was  in  Dick's  company. 

After  supper — which  consisted  of  venison,  with- 
out bread  or  coffee — the  trapper  lighted  his  pipe 
with  a  brand  from  the  fire,  and,  settling  back  on 
his  elbow,  said : 

"I've  seed  the  time,  youngsters,  when  it 
wouldn't  a  been  healthy  fur  you  two  fellers  to  be 
out  here  alone.  I've  seed  that  prairy  a'most  black 
with  Comanches,  an'  have  heered  'em  yellin'  among 
these  ere  very  willows.  If  you  had  been  settin' 


92  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

whar  you  are  now  'bout  fifteen  year  ago,  you  would 
have  seed  me  goin'  through  these  trees,  an'  swim- 
min'  that  ar  creek,  with  a  hul  tribe  of  yellin'  an' 
screechin'  red-skins  clost  to  my  heels.  I  showed 
your  uncle,  this  mornin',  the  very  place  whar  I 
onct  run  the  gauntlet  of  more'n  a  hundred  Co- 
manches.  I  tell  you,  youngsters,  I  know  every 
foot  of  this  ground.  Many  a  time  me  an'  poor  ole 
Bill  Lawson  have  skrimmaged  with  the  Injuns 
through  here,  when  it  war  more  'n  a  feller's  har  war 
wuth  to  come  to  this  creek  arter  a  drink  o'  water. 
But  I  told  you  'bout  runnin'  the  gauntlet.  The 
way  it  happened  war  this  : 

"  'Bout  fifteen  year  ago,  me  an'  ole  Bill  Lawson 
war  trappin'  among  the  mountains,  twenty-five 
miles  from  the  ole  bar's  hole.  We,  in  course,  had 
fine  sport,  'cause  me  an'  ole  Bill  allers  knowed 
whar  to  go  to  find  the  best  trappin'  grounds;  an', 
by  the  time  spring  opened,  we  had  as  much  spelter 
as  we  could  tote  away  on  our  backs.  It  war  get- 
tin'  purty  nigh  time  fur  the  Comanches  to  come 
round  on  their  spring  hunt,  an'  we  began  to  talk 
of  leavin';  but  thar  war  plenty  of  beaver  left  in 
the  valley,  an'  we  did  n't  like  to  go  so  long  as  thar 
war  any  game  to  trap,  so  we  kept  puttin'  it  off,  an' 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  93 

when  at  last  we  did  start,  it  war  too  late  to  got  off 
with  our  plunder. 

"One  mornin',  jest  at  daylight,  while  I  war  in 
front  of  the  shantee  cookin'  my  breakfast,  ole  Bill 
come  in  from  'tendin'  to  his  traps,  an'  said : 

"'Dick,  the  valley's  chuck  full  o'  red-skins.  I 
jest  seed  more  sign  down  by  the  creek  than  I  ever 
seed  afore  'bout  this  place,  an'  that's  sayin'  a  good 
deal.  We  had  better  shoulder  our  spelter  an'  be 
off  to  onct.' 

"  I  did  n't  stop  to  think  any  more  'bout  breakfast 
jest  then,  but  I  ran  into  the  shantee,  grabbed  my 
furs,  which  I  allers  kept  tied  up  ready  for  a  move, 
an'  me  an'  ole  Bill  started  out.  The  Injuns  must 
have  come  in  durin'  the  night,  'cause  the  day  afore 
thar  war  n't  a  bit  of  sign  to  be  seed  fur  ten  miles 
'round  the  valley.  But  we  didn't  stop  then  to 
think  how  or  when  they  got  in,  but  how  should  we 
get  out.  It  war  n't  no  easy  thing  to  do,  young- 
sters— to  go  through  them  mountains,  swarmin' 
with  red-skins.  They  don't  walk  through  the 
woods  like  a  feller  does  when  he 's  squirrel  huntin', 
but  they  go  sneakin'  round,  an'  listenin',  an'  peepin'; 
an'  if  a  chap  don't  understand  their  natur,  he'd 
better  not  go  among  'em. 


94  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

"  Wai,  ole  Bill  led  the  way,  sometimes  a'rnost 
on  his  knees,  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  an'  his  bundle 
of  furs  on  his  shoulder,  I  followin'  clost  at  his 
heels — both  of  us  keepin'  our  eyes  open,  an'  stop- 
pin'  now  an'  then  to  listen.  We  had  made  'bout  a 
mile  up  the  mountain  in  this  way,  when,  all  to  onct, 
ole  Bill  stopped  and  looked  straight  before  him. 
I  stopped,  too,  an'  seed  three  big  Comanches 
comin'  along  easy  like,  lookin'  at  the  ground,  ex- 
aminin'  the  bushes,  an'  whisperin'  to  each  other. 
They  had  found  a  trail  that  either  me  or  ole  Bill 
had  made  the  day  afore,  an'  war  tryin'  to  foller  it 
up.  But  me  an'  the  ole  man  war  n't  the  ones  to 
leave  a  path  that  could  be  follered  easy  when  we 
thought  thar  war  red-skins  'round;  an'  I  guess  it 
bothered  them  rascals  some  to  tell  which  way  we  had 
gone,  an'  how  many  thar  war  of  us.  But  they  did 
foller  it  up  slowly,  an'  while  we  war  lookin'  at  'em 
they  were  jined  by  another  Injun,  who  seemed  to  be 
a  chief,  for  he  whispered  a  few  orders,  an'  two  of  the 
Comanches  made  off.  They  had  been  sent  to  rouse 
the  camp,  an'  we  knowed  that  we  couldn't  get  away 
from  that  valley  any  too  fast.  The  red-skins  war  n't 
more  'n  a  hundred  yards  from  us,  an'  we  knowed  it 
would  take  mighty  keerful  movin'  to  get  away 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  95 

from  them  without  bein'  diskivered.  But  it  war 
life  or  death  with  us,  an'  we  began  to  crawl  slowly 
through  the  bushes.  A  greenhorn  couldn't  have 
heered  a  leaf  rustle  if  he  had  n't  been  two  foot  from 
us ;  but  thar's  a  heap  of  difference  atween  a  green- 
horn's ears  an'  them  that  a  Injun  carries.  But 
they  didn't  hear  us,  fur  as  long  as  we  war  in  sight 
we  seed  them  still  follerin'  up  the  ole  trail;  an'  as 
soon  as  we  thought  we  had  got  out  of  hearin'  of 
them,  we  jumped  to  our  feet  an'  run  like  a  pair  of 
quarter  bosses.  We  didn't  make  no  more  noise 
than  we  could  help,  but  we  hadn't  gone  fur  afore 
the  mountains  echoed  with  the  war-whoop,  an'  a 
couple  of  arrers  whizzed  by  our  heads.  The  Injuns 
had  diskivered  us.  In  course,  we  both  dropped 
like  a  flash  of  lightnin',  an',  while  I  war  lookin' 
round  to  find  the  varlets,  ole  Bill  struck  out  his 
hand,  sayin' : 

" 4  This  is  a  bad  scrape,  Dick,  an'  mebbe  me  an' 
you  have  done  our  last  trappin'  together.  But  we 
musn't  get  ketched  if  we  can  help  it,  'cause  we 
could  n't  look  fur  nothin'  but  the  stake.' 

"  While  the  ole  man  war  speakin',  I  seed  one  of 
the  rascals  that  had  shot  at  us  peepin'  out  from 
behind  a  log.  He  didn't  show  more'n  two  inches 


96  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

of  his  head,  but  that  war  enough,  an'  I  reckon  that 
red-skin  lay  thar  till  his  friends  toted  him  off. 
Jest  the  minit  I  fired,  ole  Bill  throwed  down  his 
furs,  jumped  to  his  feet,  an'  run,  an'  I  done  the 
same,  although  I  did  hate  to  leave  that  spelter  that 
I  had  worked  so  hard  fur  all  winter.  But,  in 
course,  thar  war  no  help  fur  it.  Thar  war  plenty 
more  beaver  in  the  mountains,  an',  if  I  got  safe  off, 
I  knowed  whar  to  go  to  find  'em ;  but  if  I  lost  my 
scalp,  I  couldn't  get  another.  So,  as  I  war  sayin', 
I  put  arter  the  ole  man,  an'  jest  then  I  heered 
something  'sides  a  arrer  sing  by  my  head.  It  war 
a  bullet,  an'  the  chap  that  sent  it  war  n't  sich  a  bad 
shot  neither ;  fur,  if  I  had  the  ole  'coon-skin  cap  I 
wore  then,  I  could  show  you  whar  a  piece  of  it  war 
cut  out.  I  didn't  stop  to  look  fur  the  feller,  how- 
somever,  but  kept  on  arter  ole  Bill,  loadin'  my  rifle 
as  I  ran.  The  woods  war  so  thick  we  couldn't 
keep  clost  together,  an'  I  soon  lost  sight  of  him ; 
but  that  didn't  skeer  me,  fur  I  knowed  he  could 
take  keer  of  his  own  bacon.  As  fur  myself,  I 
never  yet  seed  the  Injun,  or  white  man  either,  that 
could  ketch  me,  if  I  onct  got  a  leetle  start  of  him  ; 
an'  if  all  the  Injuns  in  the  mountains  war  behind  me, 
I  could  laugh  at  'em.  But  thar  war  some  in  front 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  97 

of  me,  as  I  found  out  afore  I  had  gone  fur.  I  had 
jest  got  my  rifle  loaded,  an'  war  settlin'  down  to 
my  work — makin'  purty  good  time,  I  reckon,  the 
Injuns  behind  me  yellin'  an'  hootin'  all  the  while — 
when,  all  to  onct,  up  jumped  about  a  dozen  more 
of  the  rascals. 

"  I  did  n't  stop  to  ax  no  questions,  but  sent  the 
nighest  of  'em  down  in  a  hurry ;  but  in  a  minit 
arterward  I  war  down,  too ;  an'  when  I  war  pulled 
to  my  pins  ag'in,  I  war  a  pris'ner,  my  hands  bein' 
bound  behind  me  with  hickory  bark.  It  war  n't  a 
pleasant  sight  I  seed,  youngsters,  as  I  stood  thar, 
lookin'  at  them  scowlin'  Injuns.  At  that  day  thar 
war  few  of  them  Comanches  that  did  n't  know  me 
an'  ole  Bill,  an'  when  they  seed  who  I  war,  they 
all  set  up  a  yell,  an'  began  dancin'  'round  me  like 
mad,  shakin'  their  tomahawks,  an'  pintin'  their 
rifles  an'  arrers  at  me ;  an'  one  feller  ketched  me 
by  the  har,  an'  passed  his  knife  'round  my  head, 
as  though  he  had  half  a  notion  to  scalp  me  to  onct. 
They  kept  goin'  on  in  this  way  until  all  the  Injuns 
in  that  part  of  the  woods  had  come  up  to  see  what 
the  fuss  war  'bout;  an'  they,  too,  had  to  go 
through  the  same  motions.  All  to  onct  they  hap- 
pened to  think  of  ole  Bill.  The  chief  set  up  a 


98  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

sliout,  an'  all  but  four  of  the  Injuns  put  off  on  his 
trail.  It  showed  me,  plain  enough,  that  the  rascals 
war  afraid  of  me,  when  they  left  so  many  to 
guard  me.  But  no  four  of  them  Comanches  would 
have  stopped  me  from  gettin'  away  if  I  could  have 
got  my  hands  free.  I  tell  you,  I  done  my  best, 
makin'  that  tough  hickory  bark  crack  an'  snap, 
but  it  war  no  go — I  war  fast.  As  soon  as  the 
others  war  out  of  sight,  one  big  feller  ketched 
me  by  the  har,  an'  begun  to  pull  me  t' wards  the 
camp. 

"  He  didn't  help  me  along  very  easy,  but  dragged 
me  over  logs  an'  through  bushes,  as  if  he  meant 
to  pull  my  head  off,  while  the  other  fellers,  findin' 
nothin'  else  to  do,  follered  behind  with  switches, 
that  cut  through  my  old  hun tin'- shirt  like  a  knife. 
At  last,  arter  they  had  got  me  purty  well  thrashed, 
we  reached  the  camp,  which  war  jest  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountains — I'll  show  you  the  place  in  the 
mornin' — an'  here  they  stood  me  up  ag'in  a  post. 
Then  I  ketched  it  from  every  body — men,  women, 
an'  young  ones.  The  most  of  the  braves  war  still 
out  arter  the  old  man,  an'  I  could  easy  It'll  by  the 
way  they  whooped  an'  yelled  that  they  hadn't 
ketched  him.  .  I  knowed  they  wouldn't  get  him, 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE.  99 

neither,  unless  they  surrounded  him  like  they  did 
me. 

"Wai,  arter  tormentin'  me  fur  a  long  time,  an* 
findin'  that  I  didn't  keer  fur  'em,  the  Injuns  finally 
let  me  alone ;  an'  one  ole  dried-up  squaw  brought 
me  a  piece  of  buffaler  meat.  They  wouldn't  untie 
my  hands,  but  that  ole  woman  sot  thar  on  the 
ground,  an'  fed  me  like  I  war  a  baby.  I  eat  a 
heap  of  that  meat,  'cause  I  war  hungry,  an'  if  I 
got  a  chance  to  have  a  race  with  the  varlets,  I 
didn't  want  to  run  on  an  empty  stomach;  'sides 
I  might  have  to  go  without  eatin'  fur  two  or  three 
days  afore  I  could  find  ole  Bill.  Jest  afore  dark 
the  braves  began  to  come  in,  one  arter  the  other. 
They  hadn't  ketched  the  ole  man,  an'  I  could  see, 
by  the  way  they  scowled  at  me,  that  I  would  have 
to  stand  punishment  for  his  deeds,  an'  my  own  into 
the  bargain.  I  could  have  yelled,  when  I  knowed 
the  old  feller  war  safe,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  the  Injuns  would  only  give  me  half  a  chance, 
I  'd  soon  be  with  him  ag'in. 

"  Wai,  when  the  chiefs  come  in,  I  war  tied  fast 
to  the  post,  and  left  thar.  They  didn't  try  to 
skeer  me  any  more,  'cause  they  seed  it  war  no  use, 
an'  'sides,  they  wanted  to  save  all  their  spite  fur 


100  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

the  mornin',  fur  it  war  too  late  to  begin  bisness 
that  night.  I  war  fast  enough — as  fast  as  if  I  had 
been  wrapped  up  in  chains — but  them  Injuns  war 
afraid  to  trust  me.  They  actooally  kept  half  a 
dozen  of  their  braves  watchin'  me,  from  the  time  it 
began  to  grow  dark  till  daylight  the  next  mornin'. 
I  didn't  sleep  very  easy,  fur  I  war  standin'  ag'in 
that  post,  an'  the  bark  they  had  tied  me  with  war 
drawed  so  tight  that  it  cut  into  my  arms ;  but  I 
made  out  to  git  a  nap  or  two,  an'  when  mornin' 
come,  an'  I  had  eat  another  big  chunk  of  that  buf- 
faler  meat,  I  war  ready  fur  'em  to  begin. 

"As  soon  as  the  sun  war  up,  the  chief  called  a 
council.  It  did  n't  take  'em  long  to  say  what 
should  be  done  with  me,  fur  sooner  than  I  had 
thought  fur,  one  of  the  chiefs  set  up  a  yelp,  which 
war  answered  by  the  hul  tribe,  an'  men,  women, 
an'  children  began  formin'  themselves  into  two 
lines,  with  whips,  clubs,  tomahawks,  or  whatever 
else  they  could  ketch  hold  of;  an'  two  fellers  come 
up  to  set  me  free.  I  war  to  run  the  gauntlet.  I 
tell  you,  youngsters,  if  thar  is  any  thing  that  will 
make  the  har  rise  on  a  feller's  head,  it  is  fur  him 
to  stand  an'  look  atween  two  lines  sich  as  I  saw 
that  mornin'.  It  war  n't  the  fust  time  I  had  been 


THE  TRAPPER'S  REMINISCENCE. 

in  jest  sich  scrapes,  an'  I  knowed,  too,  that  the 
Injuns  did  n't  mean  to  kill  me  then — they  wanted 
to  save  me  for  the  stake — but  somehow  I  could  n't 
help  feelin'  shaky.  I  did  n't  let  the  Inj  uns  see  it, 
howsomever,  but  tightened  my  belt,  stretched  my 
arms,  an',  'walkin'  out  in  front  of  the  lines,  waited 
fur  the  word  to  start.  The  head  of  the  line  war 
t' wards  the  camp,  an'  at  the  foot,  which  war  t'wards 
this  creek,  stood  five  or  six  big  fellers,  waitin'  to 
ketch  me  when  I  come  out. 

"  Wai,  it  did  n't  take  me  long  to  see  how  the  land 
lay,  an'  when  the  chief  yelled  to  let  me  know  that 
the  time  had  come,  I  started.  The  way  I  traveled 
through  'em  lines  war  a  thing  fur  'em  Comanches 
to  look  at.  I  got  plenty  of  clips  as  I  passed,  but 
this  war  the  only  one  that  hurt  me." 

As  the  trapper  spoke,  he  bared  his  brawny 
shoulder,  and  showed  the  boys  a  long,  ragged 
scar.  The  wound  must  have  been  a  most  severe  one. 

"  That  one,"  continued  Dick,  "  war  made  by  a 
tomahawk.  It  did  n't  hinder  my  runnin',  howsom- 
ever, an'  I  war  n't  half  a  minit  comin'  to  the  end 
of  'em  lines.  But  when  I  got  thar  I  did  n't  stop. 
The  Injuns  that  war  waitin'  thar,  tried  to  ketch 
me,  but  I  passed  them  like  a  streak  of  lightnin', 


102,    ....      „  FRAttK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 


an'  drawed  a  bee-line  fur  this  ere  creek.  In  course 
the  hul  camp  war  arter  me  to  onct ;  but  I  knowed 
that  I  war  safe,  fur  all  the  Injuns  war  behind  me,  an' 
I  would  n't  have  been  afraid  to  run  a  race  with  a 
hoss.  I  did  n't  do  as  well  as  I  had  done  afore,  nor 
nigh  as  well  as  I  could  do  now,  fur  I  war  stiff  an' 
lame  from  bein'  tied  up  so  long ;  but  I  run  plenty 
fast  enough  to  git  away.  As  I  told  you,  I  run 
through  these  willows,  swam  the  creek — which  war 
wide  an'  deep  then,  on  'count  of  the  snow  an'  ice 
meltin' — then  tuk  to  the  mountains,  an'  started  to 
make  a  circle  round  to  the  ole  bar's  hole.  I  trav- 
eled in  every  little  stream  I  could  find ;  walked  on 
logs,  an'  on  the  second  day,  found  ole  Bill.  The 
ole  feller  had  been  mighty  down-hearted  since  1 
war  ketched — fur  the  yells  of  the  Injuns  plainly 
told  him  what  had  become  of  me — an'  had  never 
expected  to  take  me  by  the  hand  ag'in.  But,  when 
he  seed  me  safe  an'  sound,  he  sot  right  down  on 
the  ground  an'  cried  like  a  child. 

"Wai,  we  lay  '"round  the  ole  bar's  hole  till  the 
Injuns  had  gone,  an'  then  set  out  fur  the  fort.  We 
war  on  foot,  an'  had  but  one  rifle  atween  us,  but  we 
got  through  all  right,  an'  in  less  'n  a  month,  war  on 
our  way  to  the  mountains  ag'in." 


THE  "OLE  BAR'S  HOLE."  103 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

I*  "life  Bar's  ] 

EXT  morning,  after  a  hasty  break- 
fast, the  boys  saddled  their  horses, 
and,  led  by  the  trapper,  set  out  to  find 
the  wagon.  Now  it  was  that  the  lat- 
ter showed  the  young  hunters  his  ex- 
traordinary "travelin'  qualities,"  as 
he  expressed  it ;  for  as  soon  as  the 
boys  were  in  their  saddles,  he  shouldered  his  rifle 
and  started  off,  at  a  rapid  pace,  which  he  did  not 
slacken  at  all  until  they  arrived  on  the  banks  of  a 
small  stream,  where  they  stopped  to  quench  their 
thirst. 

"Now,  youngsters,"  said  the  trapper,  seating 
himself  on  the  ground,  and  wiping  his  forehead 
with  his  coat  sleeve,  "  There's  the  place.  The 
Comanche's  camp  war  pitched  jest  in  the  edge  of 
them  ar'  willows,  an'  right  where  you  see  them 


104  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

bushes  war  where  I  stood  afore  I  started  to  run 
the  gauntlet.  The  chief's  wigwam  stood  thar 
then.  I  tell  you,  it  war  n't  healthy  fur  a  feller  to 
go  foolin'  'round  here  them  days." 

The  boys  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  every  ob- 
ject the  trapper  pointed  out,  and  listened  to  his 
narration  of  the  various  incidents  that  had  trans- 
pired during  his  captivity,  until  they  almost  fan- 
cied they  could  see  the  prairie  covered  with  painted 
savages,  and  their  guide,  in  the  midst  of  his  foes, 
awaiting  the  signal  to  begin  his  race  for  life. 
Dick,  himself,  was  no  less  interested,  for  he  sat 
for  a  long  time  feasting  his  eyes  on  every  familiar 
object;  now  and  then  casting  suspicious  glances 
toward  the  distant  willows,  as  if  he  almost  ex- 
pected to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  hostile  warrior,  or 
hear  the  war-whoop  which  had  so  often  awoke  the 
echoes  of  those  very  mountains. 

"  Wai,  youngsters,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  let 's 
be  movin' !  I  never  expected  to  see  the  time  when 
I  could  travel  over  these  ere  prairies  without  beiri' 
in  danger  of  havin'  my  har  raised ;  an'  if  you  live 
to  be  as  old  as  I  am,  you  '11  see  the  day  that  'em 
city  chaps  will  ride  through  here  on  'em  steam 
railroads ;  an'  if  they  see  .this  place,  they  '11  never 


THE   "OLE   BAR'S   HOLE.*'  105 

dream  that  such  things  as  I  have  told  you  about 
ever  happened  here." 

The  travelers  again  set  out,  Dick  leading  the 
way,  at  a  still  more  rapid  pace,  and  in  two  hours 
they  arrived  at  the  camp.  Mr.  Winters  and  old 
Bob  were  lying  in  the  shade  of  the  wagon,  and  as 
the  boys  approached,  the  former  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow,  and  inquired : 

"  Well,  boys,  how  do  you  like  traveling  on  your 
own  hook  ?  Do  you  think  you  could  find  your  way 
to  California  without  a  guide  ?" 

"  Oh,  they  war  all  right ! "  exclaimed  Dick,  lean- 
ing his  rifle  against  the  wagon,  and  picking  up  the 
antelope  skin  which  Archie  had  thrown  down, 
and  which  contained  some  choice  pieces  of  meat. 
"  They  war  all  right !  Me  and  Useless  found  'em 
down  on  Muddy  Creek,  Bob.  They  had  killed  this 
prong-horn,  made  their  camp,  an'  war  takin'  mat- 
ters easy  like,  as  though  they  had  never  heered 
tell  on  a  Comanche — the  keerless  fellers." 

While  Frank  and  Archie  were  unsaddling  their 
horses,  the  trapper  proceeded  to  recount  their  ad- 
ventures, to  which  both  Mr.  Winters  and  old  Bob 
listened  attentively.  The  latter  was  not  a  little 
astonished  to  learn  that^the  boys  could  so  readily 


106  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

accommodate  themselves  to  circumstances,  and  was 
more  firm  than  ever  in  his  belief  that  "  the  young- 
sters would  make  good  trappers." 

Mr.  Winters  had,  at  first,  been  considerably 
alarmed  at  their  absence ;  but,  upon  reflection,  he 
remembered  that  the  boys  had  often  been  in  posi- 
tions fully  as  dangerous,  from  which  they  had  al- 
ways succeeded  in  extricating  themselves,  and  lie 
Boon  fell  in  with  the  trapper's  opinion,  that  they 
would  "  turn  up  all  right."  He  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  caution  them,  for,  from  the  descrip- 
tion the  trapper  gave  of  their  adventures,  it  was  not 
at  all  probable  that  they  would  ever  again  be  placed 
in  a  like  situation. 

After  a  hearty  dinner,  which  Dick  speedily 
served  up,  they  again  set  out  toward  the  mount- 
ains, which  they  reached  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  After  riding  along  the  edge  of  the  wil- 
lows, for  half  a  mile,  they  came  to  a  wide  but  very 
shallow  stream,  into  which  the  trapper  turned,  and 
after  following  it  for  some  distance,  drove  out  on 
the  bank  and  stopped. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  he,  as  he  climbed  down  out 
of  his  wagon.  "Now,  youngsters,  you're  at  the 
ole  bar's  hole.  But  if  you  did  n't  know  it  war 


THE  "OLE  BAR'S  HOLE."  107 

here,  you  might  hunt  fur  it  till  your  har  war  whiter 
nor  Bob's,  an'  then  you  would  n't  find  it,  an'  that 
would  n't  be  no  wonder  neither ;  fur  many  a  sharp- 
eyed  Comanche  has  looked  an'  peeped  fur  it,  but 
only  one  ever  found  it  that  I  know  of,  an'  it  did  n't 
do  him  no  good,  fur  he  never  lived  to  tell  of  it." 

While  the  trapper  was  speaking,  old  Bob  had 
dismounted  from  his  horse,  and,  walking  up  to  a 
thicket  of  bushes  which  grew  at  the  foot  of  a  high 
rock  that  overhung  the  bed  of  the  stream,  began 
pulling  them  aside,  and  finally  disclosed  to  view  an 
opening  tmit  appeared  to  lead  down  into  the  very 
bowels  of  the  earth.  Meanwhile,  Dick  had  gath- 
ered some  dry  wood  for  a  torch,  and,  after  lighting 
it,  he  backed  down  into  the  hole  and  disappeared, 
followed  by  Frank  and  Archie,  who  were  impatient 
to  see  the  inside  of  the  cave  which  had  so  often 
served  their  guide  as  a  secure  retreat  from  his  en- 
emies. The  passage  was  long  and  winding,  and  it 
was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  the  boys  worked 
their  way  into  it.  Besides,  it  was  in  some  places  so 
narrow  that  they  could  scarcely  squeeze  themselves 
through  it.  The  trapper,  however,  worked  his  way 
along  with  a  celerity  that  was  surprising,  and  soon 
both  he  and  the  torch  were  out  of  sight,  and  the 


108  ^         FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

boys  were  left  in  pitch  darkness.  But  there  was 
little  danger  of  their  being  lost  in  that  narrow  pas- 
sage, and  they  crawled  along  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
until  at  length  Archie,  who  was  leading  the  way, 
stopped,  and  began  to  rub  his  elbows  and  knees, 
which  had  received  some  pretty  severe  scratches 
from  the  sharp  rocks. 

"I  say,  Frank,"  he  exclaimed,  "how  do  you 
suppose  Dick  ever  squeezed  his  broad  shoulders 
through  a  narrow  place  like  this  ?  What's  that?" 
he  added,  in  a  terrified  voice,  as  they  heard  a  sav- 
age growl,  which  seemed  to  sound  directly  over 
their  heads. 

Frank  did  not  stop  to  answer,  but  throwing  him- 
self on  his  hands  and  knees,  began  to  make  the 
best  of  his  way  out  of  the  passage,  closely  followed 
by  his  cousin,  who  urged  him  to  go  faster.  They 
had  not  gone  far  when  they  were  startled  by  the 
report  of  a  rifle,  which  was  followed  by  a  roar  that 
echoed  and  reechoed  through  the  cave  like  a  heavy 
clap  of  thunder.  What  it  was  that  had  uttered  that 
roar  the  boys  were  unable  to  determine ;  but  they 
knew,  by  the  report  of  the  trapper's  rifle,  and  the 
Bounds  of  a  fierce  struggle  that  came  faintly  to 
their  ears,  that  Dick  had  found  his  old  harboring- 


THE   "OLE   BAR'S   HOLE."  109 

place  occupied  by  some  animal  which  did  not  feel 
disposed  to  give  up  possession;  and  they  got  out 
of  the  passage  in  much  less  time  than  it  had  taken 
them  to  get  into  it.  When  they  reached  the  open 
air,  the  old  trapper,  who  had  heard  the  report  of 
his  "  chum's  "  rifle,  threw  himself  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  and  crawled  into  the  cave,  followed  by  Mr. 
Winters.  The  boys  at  once  ran  to  the  wagon  after 
their  weapons,  but  by  the  time  they  had  secured 
them,  the  fight  was  ended,  and  Dick  made  his 
appearance  at  the  mouth  of  the  passage.  But 
he  did  not  look  like  the  man  who  had  gone  into 
that  cave  but  a  few  moments  before.  His  hunting- 
shirt  and  leggins  were  torn  almost  into  shreds,  his 
arms  were  bare  to  his  shoulders,  and  were  covered 
with  wounds  that  were  bleeding  profusely.  The 
boys  were  horrified ;  but  their  fears  that  the  trap- 
per had  received  serious  injury  were  speedily  set 
at  rest,  for  he  smiled  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
and  exclaimed: 

"  Now  you  see  what  it  is  to  be  a  trapper,  young- 
sters. I  shall  allers  think  that  'ar  cave  has  a  good 
name,  fur  if  me  an'  Useless  didn't  find  the  biggest 
grizzly  bar  in  thar  we  ever  sot  eyes  on,  then  thar 
aint  no  more  beaver  in  the  Missouri  River." 


110  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

As  he  spoke,  he  divested  himself  of  what  re- 
mained of  his  hunting-shirt,  and  walked  down  to 
the  creek  to  wash  the  blood  off  his  hands  and  face, 
in  which  he  was  assisted  by  Mr.  Winters.  While 
this  was  going  on,  old  Bob  crawled  out  of  the  cave, 
carrying  two  cubs  in  his  arms,  which  he  presented 
to  the  boys,  saying  :  t 

"Them's  young  grizzlies.  They  don't  look 
now  as  if  they  would  ever  get  to  be  as  big  and 
fierce  as  their  mother  war." 

As  the  boys  took  them,  they  both  set  up  a  shrill 
cry,  and  fought  most  desperately  for  such  small 
animals,  and  their  sharp  little  claws  left  more  than 
one  mark  upon  the  hands  and  faces  of  the  young 
hunters. 

"Keep  an  eye  open,  Bob,"  shouted  Dick,  who 
was  seated  on  the  ground,  while  Mr.  Winters  was 
bandaging  his  wounds.  "Keep  an'  eye  open, 
'cause  the  old  man  of  the  family  may  be  'round." 

Upon  hearing  this,  Archie  dropped  his  cub,  and 
seizing  his  rifle,  cast  anxious  glances  upon  the  sur- 
rounding woods.  But  if  the  father  was  in  the 
vicinity,  he  evidently  thought  it  best  to  keep  out 
of  sight. 

When  Dick's  wounds  had  been  cared  for,  and  he 


THE  "OLE  BAR'S  HOLE."  Ill 

had  put  on  another  suit  of  clothes,  he  seated  him- 
self on  the  ground,  near  the  boys,  while  Bob  kin- 
dled a  fire  and  began  preparations  for  supper. 

"It  aint  allers  fun  to  be  a  trapper,  youngsters," 
said  Dick,  puffing  away  at  his  pipe,  "'cause,  afore 
\i  man  can  earn  that  name,  he  's  got  to  go  through  a 
inap  of  skrimmages,  like  the  one  I  jest  had.  When 
I  V  on  the  prairy,  or  in  the  mountains,  I  allers  keep 
my  eyes  open,  an'  the  fust  thing  I  seed  as  I  crawled 
out  of  that  passage  into  that  ar'  cave  war  that  griz- 
zly bar.  She  seed  me,  too,  and  set  up  a  growl,  as 
if  to  tell  me  that  I  could  n't  get  away  from  thar  any 
too  quick ;  but  she  did  n't  wink  more  'n  twice  afore 
I  sent  a  chunk  of  lead  into  her.  The  light  of  the 
torch,  however,  bothered  me,  an'  I  did  n't  shoot 
atween  her  eyes,  as  I  meant  to ;  an'  afore  a  feller 
could  say  i  Gin'ral  Jackson,'  she  war  comin'  at  me. 
Now,  I  've  been  in  jest  such  scrapes  afore,  an'  the 
way  I  've  got  pawed  up,  an'  seed  other  fellers  that 
were  bigger  and  stronger  than  me,  clawed  an'  torn, 
has  showed  me  that  no  one  man  that  ever  lived  is 
a  match  fur  a  full-grown  grizzly ;  an'  when  I  seed 
ole  Bob  poke  his  rifle  out  of  the  passage  an'  draw 
a  bead  on  that  bar's  head,  I  '11  allow  it  made  me 
feel  a  heap  easier.  If  he  had  stayed  away  five 


112  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

minits  longer,  I  do  n't  believe  I  'd  ever  showed 
you  the  way  to  Californy.  As  it  war,  I  got  pretty 
well  clawed  up." 

This  was  the  way  the  trapper  described  the  fight 
in  the  cave,  which  was  one  of  the  most  desperate 
he  had  ever  engaged  in,  as  the  severe  wounds  he 
had  received  proved.  But  he  looked  upon  such 
things  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  expected  to  be 
engaged  in  many  similar  fights ;  always  held  him- 
self in  readiness  for  them,  and  when  they  were 
over,  another  notch  was  added  to  those  on  the 
handle  of  his  knife  (for  Dick  kept  a  strict  account 
of  the  number  of  grizzlies  he  killed,)  and  he  had 
another  story  to  tell  by  the  camp-fire. 

After  supper,  the  trappers  procured  torches,  and, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Winters  and  the  boys,  pro- 
ceeded to  explore  the  cave.  There,  lying  where  she 
had  fallen  in  defense  of  her  young,  was  the  grizzly, 
which  was  the  first  of  these  animals  the  boys  had 
ever  seen.  As  near  as  they  could  judge,  she  was 
fully  twice  the  size  and  weight  of  the  bear  Frank 
had  killed  in  the  woods,  and  her  claws,  which  she 
had  used  with  such  effect  upon  the  trapper  and  his 
dog,  (for,  in  defending  his  master,  Useless  had  been 
most  roughly  handled,)  measured  eight  inches  in 


113 

length.  Every  thing  in  the  cave  bore  evidence  to 
the  fact  that  the  fight  had  been  a  severe  one. 
The  floor  and  walls  were  covered  with  blood,  and 
on  the  bear's  body  were  numerous  wounds,  made 
by  the  knife  of  the  trapper,  and  the  teeth  of  the 
faithful  Useless. 

After  the  boys  had  examined  the  bear  to  their 
satisfaction,  old  Bob  began  to  remove  the  skin, 
while  Dick  pointed  out  other  objects  of  interest 
in  the  cave.  There  were  the  withered  hemlock 
boughs  which  had  many  a  time  served  him  and 
Bill  Lawson  for  a  bed,  and  under  them  was  a  hole 
about  two  feet  square,  which  the  trapper  called 
his  "pantry."  He  told  Mr.  Winters  the  story  of 
the  "  struggle  in  the  cave,"  and  showed  him  the 
passage  that  led  to  the  top  of  the  hill  where  the 
Comanches  had  entered,  and  where  he  had  for  two 
days  kept  watch,  awaiting  the  coming  of  old  Bill. 

They  remained  in  the  cave  for  an  hour,  listen- 
ing to  Dick's  stories ;  for  in  his  mind  the  "  Ole 
Bar's  Hole"  was  associated  with  many  exciting 
events,  and  it  was  dark  before  they  returned  to  the 
camp. 

8 


114  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


the  following  morning  the  boys,  as 
usual,  were  up  with  the  sun,  impa- 
tient to  try  their  skill  on  the  big  game, 
with  which  the  woods  abounded.  The 
trapper,  who,  during  his  fight  in  the  cave, 
had  received  wounds  that  would  have 
prostrated  an  ordinary  man,  was  already 
stirring,  and,  having  attended  to  his  mules,  was 
moving  about  as  lively  as  ever,  preparing  the  morn- 
ing meal.  In  a  few  moments  their  breakfast  was 
cooked  and  eaten,  and,  after  hanging  their  provis- 
ions on  the  trees,  out  of  reach  of  any  wild  beast 
that  might  find  his  way  into  camp  during  their  ab- 
sence, they  shouldered  their  rifles  and  followed  the 
trappers  into  the  forest.  Here  they  divided  into 
two  parties,  Mr.  Winters  going  with  old  Bob,  and 
the  boys  accompanying  Dick. 


115 

"Now,  youngsters,"  said  the  latter  almost  in  a 
whisper,  "we  haint  huntin'  squirrels.  We're  ar- 
ter  bigger  game.  I  don't  s'pose  you  keer  'bout 
tacklin'  a  grizzly  bar  arter  seein'  me  pawed  up  the 
way  I  war  last  night ;  so  if  you  happen  to  come 
acrosst  one  of  them  varmints,  you  needn't  mind 
shootin'  at  him.  Thar's  plenty  other  game,  an' 
what  we  want  to  find  now  ar'  a  big-horn.  That's 
an  animal,  I  reckon,  you  never  seed.  Go  easy, 
now,  'cause  they've  got  ears  like  a  painter's,  an' 
noses  sharper  nor  hounds." 

So  saying,  the  trapper  led  the  way  through  a 
narrow  ravine  that  lay  between  two  mountains, 
whose  tops  seemed  to  pierce  the  clouds.  The  ra- 
vine, being  thickly  covered  with  bushes  and  logs, 
rendered  their  progress  slow  and  tedious,  and  the 
boys,  who  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  fine  hid- 
ing-place it  would  afford  for  a  bear  or  panther, 
often  cast  uneasy  'glances  about  them,  and  kept  as 
close  to  the  trapper  as  possible.  After  they  had 
gone  about  half  a  mile,  the  latter  suddenly  stopped 
and  said : 

"  If  these  yere  trees  could  talk,  a'most  every  one 
of  'em  would  have  a  story  to  tell  you  'bout  me  an' 
ole  Bill  Lawson,  'cause  we  've  often  come  through 


116  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

this  gully  when  it  war  chuck  full  of  Comanches. 
You  'member  I  onct  told  you  'bout  waitin'  at  the 
ole  bar's  hole  fur  him,  an'  that  the  ole  feller  had 
hid  the  black  mustang  in  the  bushes  !  Wai,  here 's 
the  very  spot." 

As  the  trapper  spoke,  he  pushed  his  way  into  a 
dense  thicket,  and  showed  the  boys  the  sapling  to 
which  the  old  man  had  tied  the  horse. 

"  Wai,  that  ar'  animal,"  continued  Dick,  "  stood 
here  fur  two  hours  quiet  an'  still  as  a  mouse,  an' 
we  tuk  him  out  an'  got  safe  off  without  the  vaiiets 
bein'  the  wiser  fur  it.  All  the  way  through  here 
we  could  hear  'em  talkin'  to  each  other,  an' — Look 
thar,  youngsters,  quick ! " 

Before  the  boys  could  look  up  to  see  what  had 
attracted  the  trapper's  attention,  the  sharp  report 
of  his  rifle  rung  through  the  gully,  and  a  queer- 
looking  animal  come  tumbling  down  the  mountain, 
landing  almost  at  their  feet.  Far  up  above  the 
tree  tops  they  saw  the  remainder  of  the  flock  bound 
over  the  rocks  and  disappear. 

"  That 's  a  sheep,"  said  the  trapper,  hastily  re- 
loading his  rifle.  "  He  '11  make  a  fust  rate  dinner, 
an',  if  we  keep  our  eyes  open,  we  may  get  an- 
other." 


117 

The  game  did  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  sheep, 
the  only  difference  being  his  enormous  horns,  which 
looked  altogether  too  large  arid  heavy  for  so  small 
an  animal  to  carry.  But  the  trapper  did  not  allow 
them  to  closely  examine  their  prize,  for  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  If  we  want  more  of  'em  fellers,  we  must  n't 
waste  no  time.  But,  fust,  we  must  separate,  'cause 
the  further  apart  we  get,  the  more  likely  we  are  to 
have  a  shot  at  'em.  Are  you  afraid  to  stay  here, 
little  un  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Archie,  quickly. 

"  Wai,  then,  keep  your  eyes  up  the  mountain, 
an'  if  you  see  'em  ag'in,  blaze  away.  Come  on, 
Frank.  I'll  show  you  whar  to  stand." 

The  latter  moved  off  with  Dick,  and  Archie  was 
left  to  himself.  After  examining  the  game  to  his 
satisfaction,  he  took  up  a  position  where  he  could 
obtain  a  good  view  of  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
leaned  back  against  a  tree,  and  impatiently  waited 
for  the  re-appearance  of  the  big-horns.  In  front 
of  him  ran  a  deer  path,  hard  and  well -beaten  as  any 
road.  It  was,  no  doubt,  used  as  a  highway  by  ani- 
mals traveling  through  the  ravine ;  and  Archie 
now  and  then  directed  his  gaze  up  and  down  the 


118  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

path,  in  hopes  he  might  discover  some  game  in 
that  direction. 

He  had  remained  in  this  position  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  when  he  did  see  an  animal  coming  leis- 
urely down  the  path,  about  fifty  yards  from  him. 
It  was  an  enormous  grizzly  bear.  It  did  not  appear 
to  have  determined  upon  any  thing  in  particular, 
for  it  approached  very  slowly,  stopping  every  few 
feet  to  snuff  the  air,  and  finally  seated  itself  on  its 
haunches,  and  proceeded  to  wash  its  paws  and  face, 
after  the  manner  of  a  house  cat.  Archie  had  a 
good  view  of  it.  It  was  nearly  as  large  as  the  one 
the  trapper  had  killed  in  the  cave,  and  the  sight  of 
its  powerful  claws,  and  the  frightful  array  of  teeth 
it  exhibited,  made  the  young  hunter  shudder.  He 
had  not  been  expecting  so  formidable  a  visitor,  and 
to  say  that  he  was  frightened  would  but  feebly 
express  his  feelings.  He  had  presence  of  mind 
enough,  however,  to  move  behind  his  tree,  out  of 
sight ;  but  still  he  could  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
the  animal,  neither  could  he  determine  upon  any 
plan  to  extricate  himself  from  his  unpleasant  sit- 
uation. The  grizzly  had  not  yet  discovered  him, 
and  Archie  had  his  wits  about  him  sufficiently  to 
note  the  fact,  that  what  little  wind  there  was,  was 


ARCHIE'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  GRIZZLY.      119 

blowing  from  the  bear  toward  himself.  For  fully 
five  minutes — it  seemed  much  longer  to  Archie — 
the  grizzly  sat  in  the  path,  sometimes  looking  lazily 
about  him,  and  then  licking  his  jaws  like  a  dog 
that  had  just  enjoyed  a  good  meal;  and  for  the 
same  length  of  time  did  the  young  hunter  remain 
behind  his  tree  watching  his  movements,  and  won- 
dering what  course  he  could  pursue  to  rid  himself 
of  his  dangerous  neighbor.  It  was  not  at  all  prob- 
able that  the  bear  would  remain  in  that  position 
until  the  trapper  returned.  What  if  he  should  take 
it  into  his  head  to  come  further  down  the  path? 
Archie  would  certainly  be  discovered,  for  the  path 
run  close  by  the  tree,  behind  which  he  was  con- 
cealed, and  what  would  the  bear  do  then  ?  It  was 
something  he  did  not  like  to  think  about.  He 
knew,  from  what  he  had  heard  the  trapper  say, 
that  the  grizzly's  disposition  is  very  different  from 
that  of  the  black  bear.  The  latter,  unless  rendered 
desperate  by  hunger,  will  generally  take  to  his 
heels  at  the  sight  of  a  human  being ;  but  the  grizzly 
looks  upon  all  who  invade  his  dominions  as  ene- 
mies, and  believes  in  punishing  them  accordingly. 
These  thoughts  passed  rapidly  through  Archie's 
mind,  and  in  a  moment  more  his  resolve  was  taken. 


120  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

Keeping  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  bear,  he  cautiously 
raised  his  hand  above  his  head,  and,  to  his  joy, 
found  that  he  could  easily  reach  the  lowest  limbs 
of  the  tree,  and  that  they  were  strong  enough  to 
sustain  his  weight.  But  it  was  not  his  intention  to 
leave  the  grizzly  in  peaceable  possession  of  the 
field;  for,  as  soon  as  he  had  satisfied  himself  that 
he  had  found  a  way  of  escape,  he  cocked  his  rifle 
and  cautiously  raised  it  to  his  shoulder.  He  was 
trembling  violently,  but  at  length  he  succeeded  in 
quieting  his  nerves  sufficiently  to  cover  the  bear's 
head  with  the  sight  and  puli  the  trigger.  The 
grizzly,  however,  arose  to  his  feet  just  as  Archie 
fired,  and  the  ball,  instead  of  finding  a  lodgment  in 
his  brain,  entered  his  shoulder.  It  brought  him  to 
the  ground,  and  Archie  caught  one  glimpse  of  him 
struggling  in  the  path,  and  heard  his  growls  of 
rage  and  pain,  as  he  dropped  his  rifle  and  swung 
himself  into  the  lowest  branches  of  the  tree. 

It  was  evident  that  the  bear  meant  to  take  ample 
revenge  on  him,  for  Archie  heard  him  coming  up 
the  path.  But  he  knew  that  the  grizzly  could 
not  climb,  and,  after  settling  himself  among  the 
branches,  he  looked  down  at  his  enemy  in  perfect 
security.  The  bear  knew  where  he  had  gone,  for 


ARCHIE'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  GRIZZLY.     121 

he  ran  directly  to  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and,  after 
smelling  at  the  rifle  and  pawing  it  out  of  his  way, 
he  began  walking  up  and  down  the  path,  all  the 
while  uttering  those  terrific  growls,  that  made  the 
young  hunter  tremble. , 

At  this  moment  Archie  heard  the  report  of  a 
rifle  far  up  the  mountain,  which  was  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  another  that  sounded  nearer.  Then 
came  a  crashing  in  the  bushes,  as  the  big-horns 
fled  before  the  hunters,  and  Archie  heard  his  com- 
panions shouting  to  him : 

"Look  out,  down  there,"  said  Frank;  "they're 
running  directly  toward  you,  Archie." 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,  youngster,"  chimed  in 
Dick.  "  Do  n't  let  'em  go  by  you." 

But  Archie  was  not  in  a  situation  to  intercept 
them,  and  he  heard  the  big-horns  dash  across  the 
ravine  and  bound  up  the  mountain  on  the  opposite 
side,  closely  followed  by  the  dog,  which  barked 
fierce  and  loud  at  every  jump. 

"  Archie,  why  do  n't  you  shoot  ?  "  again  shouted 
Frank,  his  voice  sounding  as  though  he  was  com- 
ing down  the  mountain. 

"I  can't,"  answered  Archie.  "Look  out! 
Do  n't  come  down  here.  I  'm  treed  by  a  grizzly." 


122  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

"By  a  grizzly?"  repeated  Frank,  in  astonish- 
ment. "  Has  he  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  shouted  Archie,  from  his  tree,  "  I  am  all 
right ;  but  I  hurt  him,  I  guess.  Look  out,  Frank ! 
he  's  going  toward  you." 

This  was  a  fact.  The  grizzly  had  stood  per- 
fectly still  under  the  tree,  listening  to  the  sounds 
of  the  chase,  until,  finding  that  he  could  not  reach 
Archie,  he  determined  to  revenge  himself  upon 
some  one  else.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  Use- 
less, having  overtaken  and  killed  a  big-horn  that 
his  master  had  wounded,  came  up,  and,  discovering 
the  grizzly,  instantly  gave  chase.  The  bear,  mad- 
dened by  the  pain  of  his  wound,  advanced  with 
open  mouth  to  meet  him ;  but  the  dog,  easily  elud- 
ing his  attacks,  kept  him  busy  until  the  trapper 
arrived,  and  put  an  end  to  the  fight  by  shooting  the 
bear  through  the  head.  Archie  had  watched  the 
struggle  from  his  perch,  and,  seeing  that  the  grizzly 
was  dead,  he  came  down  out  of  his  tree,  feeling 
very  much  relieved. 

"You  keerless  feller!"  exclaimed  the  trapper, 
"  did  n't  I  tell  you  not  to  mind  shootin'  at  a  grizzly 
bar?" 

By  this  time  Frank  had  come  up  with  a  big-horn 


123 


on  his  shoulder,  and,  after  having  regained  his 
rifle,  Archie  gave  them  an  account  of  what  had 
transpired. 

u  Wai,"  said  the  trapper,  "  it  war  keerless  to  go 
a  foolin'  with  a  bar  that  ar'  way.  Now,  you  stay 
here,  an'  I  '11  go  an'  get  that  big-horn  that  Useless 
killed." 

The  dog,  as  if  understanding  what  was  said,  led 
his  master  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  the  game. 
When  the  trapper  returned,  he  removed  the  skin 
of  the  grizzly,  intending  to  cure  it,  and  give  it  to 
Archie  to  remember  his  "  keerlessness  by,"  as  he 
said.  After  which,  they  shouldered  their  game 
and  returned  to  camp. 


124  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER    X. 


HEN  they  arrived  at  the  wagon,  they 
found  Mr.  Winters  and  old  Bob  eat 
ing  their  dinner.  Although  not  as 
fortunate  as  Dick's  party,  they  had 
not  returned  empty-handed,  for  the 
old  trapper  had  killed  a  big-horn,  and 
Mr.  Winters  had  knocked  over  a 
large  gray  wolf.  Thinking  that  Frank  might  want 
the  skin  of  the  latter  to  mount  in  his  museum,  he 
had  taken  it  off  very  carefully,  and  stretched  it  on 
a  frame  to  dry. 

Archie's  adventure  with  the  grizzly  was  duly 
discussed,  and,  for  an  hour  after  dinner,  the  boys 
sat  by  the  fire  listening  to  the  trapper's  stories. 
But  they  could  not  long  endure  this  inactivity  — 
there  was  "no  fun  in  it,"  as  Archie  said  —  so  they 
saddled  their  horses  and  set  out  for  a  ride  over  the 


HANGING   A   BEAR.  125 

prairie.  They  were  not  after  game  this  time.  If 
they  had  been,  it  is  not  at  all  probable  they  would 
have  discovered  any,  for  they  raced  their  horses 
over  the  swells,  and  shouted  loud  enough  to  frighten 
all  the  animals  for  a  mile  around.  About  the  mid- 
dle of  the  afternoon  they  grew  tired  of  their  ride, 
and  turned  their  horses  toward  the  camp.  As  they 
rode  slowly  along,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  wil- 
lows that  skirted  the  base  of  the  mountains,  Ar- 
chie, who,  as  usual,  was  leading  the  way,  suddenly 
drew  up  his  horse,  exclaiming : 

"  See  there,  Frank  !  There 's  another  of  the 
varmints ! " 

Frank  looked  toward  the  willows,  and  saw  a 
large,  grizzly  bear,  seated  on  his  haunches,  regard- 
ing them  as  if  not  at  all  concerned  about  their  ap- 
proach. 

"  We  're  safe  now,  Archie,"  said  he,  as  soon  as 
he  had  satisfied  himself  that  the  bear  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  seeking  safety  in  flight.  "  A 
grizzly  can't  outrun  a  horse,  so  let 's  shoot  at  that 
fellow." 

"  I — I — believe  I  'd  rather  not  meddle  with 
him,"  answered  his  cousin,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  I  say,  let  him  alone  if  he  let 's  us  alone.  What 


126  FRANK    ON    THE   PRAIRIE. 

if  our  horses  should  get  frightened  and  throw  us  ? 
Wouldn't  we  be  in  a  fix?  But  I  '11  shoot  at  him 
from  here." 

"  Why,  it 's  too  far,"  said  Frank.  "  I  am  going 
up  nearer."  As  he  spoke,  he  put  his  horse  into  a 
gallop  and  rode  toward  the  bear,  which  was  still 
seated  in  the  edge  of  the  willows.  Archie  did  not 
at  all  like  the  idea  of  provoking  a  fight  with  the 
animal;  but,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  fol- 
lowed his  cousin.  There  might  be  no  danger  after 
all,  he  thought,  for  that  bear  certainly  could  not 
catch  Sleepy  Sam.  The  grizzly  still  kept  his  seat, 
closely  watching  the  movements  of  the  hunters, 
and  once  or  twice  he  seemed  inclined  to  advance 
on  them ;  but,  after  walking  a  few  steps,  he  again 
seated  himself,  as  if  to  await  their  approach. 

The  boys  had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  when 
their  horses  discovered  the  animal,  and  Pete  at 
once  stopped,  and  refused  to  go  any  further.  He 
had  evidently  had  some  experience  in  bear  hunt- 
ing, for  the  sight  of  the  animal  seemed  to  terrify 
him.  Words  had  more  effect  than  the  spurs,  for 
when  Frank  spoke  encouragingly  to  him,  he  would 
advance  a  few  steps,  and  then,  as  if  suddenly  re- 
calling his  former  experience,  he  would  hastily 


HANGING  A  BEAK.  127 

retreat.  In  this  way,  he  succeeded  in  getting 
further  and  further  away  from  the  bear,  instead 
of  going  toward  it.  Archie  now  took  the  lead,  in 
hopes  that  his  cousin  could  induce  his  horse  to 
follow  the  old  buffalo  hunter ;  but  Pete  utterly  re- 
fused to  go  any  nearer,  and  Frank  at  length  dis- 
mounted and  prepared  to  risk  a  shot  at  the  bear  at 
long  range.  The  animal  accepted  this  as  a  chal- 
lenge, for  he  arose  to  his  feet,  growling  savagely, 
arid  made  toward  the  boys  at  a  rate  of  speed  that 
astonished  them. 

When  Frank  dismounted,  he  was  careful  to  re- 
tain a  firm  hold  of  Pete's  bridle,  for  the  actions  of 
the  horse  plainly  indicated  that,  if  left  to  himself, 
he  would  take  to  his  heels,  and  get  as  far  as  possi- 
ble away  from  the  dangerous  neighborhood.  When 
he  saw  that  the  bear  was  coming  toward  him,  he 
snorted  and  plunged,  rendering  it  impossible  for 
Frank  to  shoot;  and,  in  fact,  the  latter  had  no  de- 
sire to  do  so,  when  he  found  that  the  grizzly  was 
about  to  assume  the  offensive.  His  first  thought 
was  to  remount;  but  the  horse  was  so  terrified 
that  he  would  not  stand  still  long  enough  for  Frank 
to  place  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

"  Hurry  up,  there ! "  exclaimed  Archie,  excitedly. 


128  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

"  The  rascal  is  coming  fast.  He  means  fight,  sure 
enough." 

Pete  evidently  thought  so  too,  for  he  reared  and 
plunged  worse  than  ever,  pulling  Frank  about  over 
the  prairie  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  loud  snap,  and  the  bridle,  broken  close 
to  the  bit,  was  violently  pulled  through  Frank's 
hand.  The  next  moment  Pete  had  disappeared 
behind  a  swell.  For  an  instant  the  cousins  gazed 
at  each  other  in  dismay.  On  foot,  Frank  could  not 
hope  to  escape  from  the  bear,  which,  in  spite  of 
his  clumsy  appearance,  was  making  his  way  toward 
them  with  surprising  rapidity ;  neither  could  he 
disable  him  by  a  shot  from  his  rifle.  Before,  he 
had  been  as  cool  and  collected  as  he  possibly  could 
be,  for  he  knew  that  he  had  a  way  of  escape.  But 
Pete  seemed  to  have  carried  the  last  particle  of 
his  master's  courage  away  with  him,  for  Frank's 
hand  trembled  so  violently  that  he  knew  it  would 
be  useless  to  fire  at  the  bear.  But  still  there  was  a 
chance  for  escape,  and  Archie  was  the  first  to  think 
of  it. 

"Frank  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  there  's  only  one  way 
now — -jump  up  behind  me." 

His  cousin  was  prompt  to  act  upon  the  sugges- 


HANGING  A   BEAR.  129 

tion,  and  Sleepy  Sam,  in  answer  to  a  thrust  from 
his  master's  spurs,  carried  them  both  toward  the 
camp  at  a  rapid  gallop. 

They  no  longer  thought  of  fighting  the  grizzly; 
their  only  desire  was  to  reach  the  old  bear's  hole 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  procure  the  assistance  of 
the  trappers.  They  both  thought  that  the  animal 
would  soon  abandon  the  chase,  and  their  only  fear 
was,  that  before  they  could  reach  the  camp  and 
acquaint  Dick  with  what  had  transpired,  the  bear 
would  be  safe  among  the  mountains.  But  they 
soon  discovered  their  mistake.  The  grizzly  stead- 
ily followed  them,  and,  although  Sleepy  Sam  made 
excellent  time  for  a  horse  encumbered  with  a 
double  load,  gained  at  every  step.  But  they  were 
rapidly  nearing  the  old  bear's  hole,  and,  at  length, 
the  boys  saw  their  uncle  and  the  trappers  ride  out 
of  the  willows.  Dick  was  mounted  on  Frank's 
horse.  The  animal,  when  he  found  himself  at  libr 
erty,  had  made  straight  for  camp,  and  his  appear- 
ance there,  without  his  rider,  occasioned  no  little 
surprise  and  alarm.  Dick,  as  usual,  predicted  that 
"  Frank  war  n't  a  bit  hurt.  He  would  be  sartin  to 
turn  up  all  right."  But  still  he  did  not  know  but 
the  young  hunter  had  got  himself  into  "  some 
9 


130  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

scrape,"  in  which  he  would  need  assistance,  and 
agreed  with  Mr.  Winters  that  it  would  be  best  to 
hunt  him  up.  The  latter  was  fast  falling  in  with 
the  trapper's  opinion,  that  his  nephews  were 
"  'bout  the  keerlessest  chaps  agoin' ;"  and  although 
he  knew  that  they  always  succeeded  in  bringing 
themselves  "  safe  out  of  all  their  scrapes,"  he  felt 
considerably  relieved,  when  he  saw  that  Sleepy 
Sam  had  carried  them  out  of  reach  of  the  claws  of 
the  grizzly. 

Archie,  when  he  found  that  assistance  was  at 
hand,  stopped  and  faced  the  bear,  intending  to  try 
a  shot  at  him.  But  the  trappers  galloped  toward 
them,  Dick  shouting,  "Hold  on  thar,  you  keerless 
feller ;  me  an*  Bob  '11  take  him  off  your  hands. 
We  '11  show  you  how  they  hunt  bars  in  Mexico. 
We  '11  hang  the  varmint." 

The  trapper  swung  a  lasso  above  his  head,  as  he 
spoke,  and  brought  it  down  across  Pete's  sides,  in 
a  way  that  made  the  spirited  animal  prance  in  the 
most  lively  manner.  The  horse  was  still  unwilling 
to  approach  the  bear ;  but  he  knew  full  well  that 
he  carried  a  rider  who  was  able  to  enforce  obedi- 
ence. 

The  grizzly  stopped  for  a  moment  when  he  saw 


HANGING   A    BEAR.  ,  131 

these  new  enemies  approaching,  then  he  rushed 
toward  old  Bob,  who  was  in  advance  of  his  com- 
panion. But  he  was  met  by  the  trapper's  do*. 
which  attacked  him  with  such  fury  that  the  boa 
was  obliged  to  stop  and  defend  himself.  Old  Bob 
rode  in  a  circle  around  the  combatants,  holding  his 
lasso  in  his  hand  all  ready  for  a  throw,  and  yelling 
with  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs  to  encourage  the 
dog.  Dick  was  making  desperate  efforts  to  join 
his  companion,  but  his  horse  stopped  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  bear,  and  stubbornly  refused 
to  go  nearer.  His  rider,  resolved  to  have  his  own 
way,  beat  him  most  unmercifully  with  his  lasso, 
and,  as  the  horse  appeared  to  be  equally  deter- 
mined, the  boys  were  unable  to  decide  how  the  battle 
would  end.  All  this  while  Useless  had  kept  up  the 
contest  with  the  bear,  and  the  animal  finding  that 
he  could  not  elude  his  attacks,  rose  on  his  haunches 
and  struck  at  the  dog  with  his  paws.  Old  Bob 
had  been  waiting  for  this.  Swinging  his  lasso 
around  his  head,  he  launched  it  at  the  bear,  and 
as  the  noose  settled  down  about  his  neck,  he  turned 
his  horse  and  galloped  off.  The  next  moment 
there  was  a  heavy  thud,  a  smothered  growl  of 
rage,  and  the  grizzly  was  prostrate  on  the  prairie. 


132  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

He,  however,  quickly  regained  his  feet,  and,  disre- 
garding the  attacks  of  the  dog,  rushed  with  open 
mouth  toward  old  Bob.  Now  was  the  time  for  Dick. 
Having,  at  last,  been  whipped  into  obedience,  Pete 
gamely  approached  the  bear,  and,  in  an  instant 
more,  grizzly  was  powerless.  Dick  was  on  one  side 
of  him,  old  Bob  on  the  other;  "and  their  lassos 
were  drawn  so  taut  he  could  not  turn  either 
way.  If  he  attempted  to  attack  Bob,  he  was 
checked  by  Dick ;  and  if  he  rushed  upon  the  lat- 
ter, old  Bob's  lasso  stopped  him.  The  grizzly's 
struggles  were  desperate;  his  growls  terrific.  He 
tore  at  the  lassos  with  his  claws,  and  exerted  all 
his  tremendous  strength  to  break  the  raw-hide 
ropes,  which  were  drawn  as  tight  as  a  bow-string. 
But  the  conflict,  desperate  as  it  was,  lasted  only  a 
short  time.  The  grizzly's  struggles  grew  weaker,  his 
growls  fainter,  and  finally  he  sank  on  the  prairie  dead. 
The  trappers  slackened  up  their  lassos,  and  Mr. 
"Winters  and  the  boys,  who  had  closely  watched 
this  singular  contest,  rode  up  to  examine  their  prize. 
"  Thar  's  your  bar,  you  keerless  fellers*'  said 
Dick.  "If  you  don't  let  these  yere  varmints 
alone,  you  '11  git  yourselves  in  a  bad  scrape,  one 
of  these  days,  now,  I  tell  you.  A  grizzly  do  n't 


HANGING  A  BEAR.  133 

wait  fur  a  feller  to  walk  up  an'  shake  his  fist  in  his 
face,  an'  say,  '  Do  ye  want  to  fight  ?'  He  b'lieves 
in  makin'  war  on  every  one  he  sees." 

"  We  know  that ! "  replied  Archie.  "  This  fellow 
made  at  us  before  we  got  near  enough  to  shoot  at 
him." 

"  Then  you  did  mean  to  fight  him,  did  you  ? " 
asked  the  trapper,  as  he  and  old  Bob  began  to  skin 
the  bear.  "Wai,  it  aint  every  feller  that  would 
keer  'bout  meddlin'  with  a  grizzly  so  long  as  the 
critter  let  him  alone.  I've  seed  trappers — an' 
brave  ones,  too — that  would  shoulder  their  we'pons 
an'  walk  off  if  they  happened  to  come  acrost  a  bar. 
It  aint  allers  fun  to  hang  a  grizzly,  neither ;  fur  if 
your  hoss  falls  down,  or  your  lasso  breaks,  you  're 
a'most  sartin  to  go  under.  I  've  seed  more  'n  one 
poor  chap  pawed  up  'cause  his  hoss  war  n't  quick 
enough  to  git  out  of  the  varmint's  reach." 

In  this  way  the  trapper  talked  to  the  boys  until 
the  skin  of  the  grizzly  was  taken  off,  when  the 
travelers  returned  to  their  camp.  As  Archie  re- 
marked, it  had  been  "  a  great  day  for  bears,"  and 
the  evening  was  appropriately  passed  in  listening 
to  the  stories  the  trappers  related  of  their  adven- 
tures with  these  animals. 


134  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER   XI. 


HE  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  the 
boys  seated  themselves  by  the  fire,  and 
while  Frank  mended  his  bridle,  which 
Pete  had  broken  the  day  before,  Archie 
was  endeavoring  to  conjure  up  some  plan 
for  the  day's  amusement.  Even  in  that 
country,  which  abounded  with  game,  the 
boys  were  at  a  loss  how  to  pass  the  time,  for  the 
grizzlies  had  interfered  with  their  arrangements 
considerably.  If  they  went  hunting  in  the  mount- 
ains, they  might  come  across  another  bear;  and 
their  recent  experience  with  those  animals  had 
shown  them  that  the  hunters  were  sometimes  the 
hunted.  They  had  no  desire  for  further  adventures 
with  the  monsters,  and  they  had  at  last  decided 
that  they  would  take  a  gallop  over  the  prairie, 
when  they  were  startled  by  the  clatter  of  horses' 


A   BUFFALO   HUNT.  135 

hoofs  in  the  creek,  and  old  Bob — who,  at  daylight, 
had  started  out  on  a  "  prospecting  "  expedition — 
galloped  into  camp,  breathless  and  excited.  The 
boys  very  naturally  cast  their  eyes  toward  the 
prairie,  to  see  if  he  were  not  followed  by  a  grizzly ; 
but  the  sight  of  one  of  those  animals  never  affected 
the  old  trapper  in  that  manner.  He  had  seen  what 
he  considered  larger  and  more  profitable  game. 

"  Dick,"  he  exclaimed,  drawing  up  his  horse  with 
a  sudden  jerk — "  Dick,  have  some  buffaler  hump 
for  dinner  ?  " 

"  Sartin,"  replied  the  trapper,  hastily  rising  to 
his  feet,  and  throwing  away  his  pipe.  "  In  course. 
Saddle  up  to  onct,  youngsters.  We  '11  have  some 
game  now  as  is  game." 

The  announcement  that  there  is  a  herd  of  buffa- 
loes in  the  vicinity,  always  creates  an  uproar  in  a 
hunter's  camp,  and  there  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule  this  time.  The  boys  had  never  seen  the  trap- 
per so  eager;  and  even  Mr.  Winters,  generally  so 
cool  and  deliberate,  was  not  so  long  in  saddling  his 
horse  as  usual.  This,  of  course,  had  an  effect  upon 
the  boys ;  but,  as  is  always  the  case,  their  hurry 
occasioned  them  a  considerable  loss  of  time.  Ar- 
chie could  not  find  his  bridle,  and  Frank,  in  his 


136  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

eagerness,  broke  his  saddle-girth ;  and,  to  increase 
their  excitement,  the  others,  as  soon  as  they  had 
saddled  their  horses  (Dick  rode  one  of  the  mules) 
and  secured  their  weapons,  rode  off,  leaving  them 
alone.  Archie,  after  a  lengthy  search,  found  his 
bridle  in  the  wagon,  and  Frank  at  last  succeeded 
in  mending  his  saddle-girth  with  a  piece  of  buck- 
skin. The  boys'  rifles  stood  together  against  a 
tree,  close  by,  with  all  the  accouterments  hanging 
to  the  muzzles.  Frank's  being  a  common  "patch" 
rifle,  he,  of  course,  had  a  powder-horn  and  bullet 
pouch,  while  Archie  carried  the  ammunition  for  his 
breech-loader  in  a  haversack.  The  latter  was  ready 
first,  and  hastily  seizing  the  gun  that  came  first  to 
his  hand,  secured  Frank's  instead  of  his  own,  and, 
putting  his  horse  into  a  gallop,  rode  down  the  bed 
of  the  creek,  throwing  the  powder-horn  and  bullet 
pouch  over  his  shoulder  as  he  went.  Frank  was 
ready  a  moment  afterward,  and  finding  his  own 
rifle  gone,  he,  of  course,  took  Archie's.  Although 
he  thought  nothing  of  it  at  the  time,  he  afterward 
looked  upon  it  as  a  lucky  circumstance.  In  addi- 
tion to  their  rifles,  the  boys  each  had  two  revolv- 
ers, which  they  carried  in  their  holsters.  Frank 
overtook  the  hunters  at  the  edge  of  the  prairie, 


A  BUFFALO   HUNT.  137 

where  they  had  stopped  to  wait  for  him,  and  to 
hold  a  consultation.  The  high  swells  that  rose  in 
every  direction  shut  them  out  from  the  view  of  the 
game,  but  old  Bob  knew  exactly  where  to  go  to  find 
it.  As  they  went  along,  at  an  easy  gallop,  Dick 
rode  up  beside  the  boys,  and,  addressing  himself  to 
Frank,  said : 

"  Now,  youngster,  this  '11  be  new  bisness  to  you, 
so  don't  be  keerless.  You  must  'member  that 
your  hoss  ar'  as  green  as  a  punkin  in  buffaler 
huntin',  an',  if  you  let  him  get  stampeded,  he'll 
take  you  cl'ar  to  Mexico  afore  he  stops." 

"  Stampeded  ! "  repeated  Frank.  "  Does  a  horse 
ever  get  stampeded  with  buffaloes  ?  " 

"Sartin  he  do,"  answered  the  trapper,  with  a 
laugh ;  "  an'  if  you  ever  get  teetotally  surrounded 
by  a  thousand  bellerin',  pitchin'  buffalers,  you'll 
say  it 's  the  wust  scrape  you  ever  war  in.  So 
do  n't  go  too  clost  to  'em.  If  your  hoss  gets  fright- 
ened, stop  him  to  onct,  and  quit  follerin'  'em." 

Dick  was  then  proceeding  to  instruct  the  boys 

in  the  manner  of  hunting  the  buffaloes,  when  old 

Bob,  who  had  been  leading  the  way,  sud'denly  came 

to  a  halt. 

*"  They  're    jest    behind    that    swell,"   said   he. 


138  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

"Don't  you  hear  'em?  Now,  we  must  separate." 
Then,  in  hurried  whispers,  he  pointed  out  the  sta- 
tion he  wished  each  to  occupy,  and,  after  Dick  had 
again  cautioned  Frank  to  keep  his  horse  com- 
pletely under  his  control,  the  boys  rode  away  in 
different  directions. 

When  Frank  reached  his  station,  he  stopped  his 
horse,  examined  his  rifle,  opened  his  holsters,  so  that 
he  could  readily  draw  his  revolvers,  and  waited  im- 
patiently for  the  signal.  The  hunters  were  sta- 
tioned about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart.  Old  Bob 
was  in  the  center  of  the  line.  After  satisfying 
himself  that  they  were  all  in  their  places,  he  waved 
his  hat — the  signal  for  the  advance.  They  all 
started  at  the  same  moment,  and,  before  Frank 
could  think  twice,  his  horse  had  carried  him  to  the 
top  of  the  swell,  and  he  was  in  full  view  of  the 
game.  The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  astonished 
him. 

He  had  often  read  of  the  prairie  being  black 
with  buffaloes,  but  he  had  never  seen  it  before. 
The  herd  was  an  immense  one,  and  stretched  away 
in  all  directions  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach.  But 
he  was  allowed  no  time  for  admiration,  for,  the 
moment  the  hunters  made  their  appearance,  the 


A  BUFFALO   HUNT.  139 

buffaloes  discovered  them,  and  made  off  at  the  top 
of  their  speexl,  the  noise  of  their  hoofs  sounding 
on  the  hard  prairie  like  the  rolling  of  thunder. 
Pete  was  not  afraid  of  buffaloes,  and  he  soon  car- 
ried his  master  within  easy  range  of  the  herd,  the 
nearest  of  which  fell  at  the  crack  of  his  rifle.  Too 
impatient  to  reload  his  gun,  Frank  drew  one  of  his 
revolvers,  and,  forgetting,  in  his  excitement,  all 
the  trapper's  advice,  spurred  after  the  flying  herd ; 
and,  so  close  was  he  to  them,  that  he  seldom 
missed  his  mark.  When  he  had  fired  all  the 
charges,  he  returned  his  empty  weapon  to  his  hol- 
ster, and,  as  he  drew  the  other,  he  cast  his  eye  in 
the  direction  of  his  companions,  and  was  a  good 
deal  surprised  to  discover  that  some  of  the  herd 
had  got  between  him  and  the  rest  of  his  party, 
and  were  running  almost  side  by  side  with  him. 
On  the  outer  edge  of  the  herd,  he  saw  his  cousin 
in  company  with  the  trappers.  Archie  had,  doubt- 
less, emptied  all  his  weapons,  for  he  appeared  to  be 
engaged  in  reloading.  Further  back,  he  saw  Mr. 
Winters,  who  had  stopped  to  "  settle  "  a  large  bull 
he  had  wounded.  He  also  noticed  that  the  mule, 
on  which  Dick  was  mounted,  being  entirely  unac- 
customed to  such  business,  and  frightened  by  the 


140  FRANK  ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

discharges  of  the  fire-arms,  and  the  noise  of  the 
rushing  herd,  was  making  desperate  but  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  to  throw  his  rider.  Frank,  taking 
this  all  in  at  a  glance,  then  turned  his  attention  to 
the  animals  nearest  him,  and  soon  emptied  his  sec- 
ond revolver. 

All  this  while  Pete  had  been  running  with  the 
bridle  hanging  loose  on  his  neck ;  now,  as  Frank 
gathered  up  the  reins,  he  noticed,  for  the  first  time, 
that  he  was  going  at  a  rate  of  speed  he  had  never 
before  accomplished.  This,  however,  did  not  alarm 
him;  but,  seeing  that  he  was  leaving  his  compan- 
ions behind,  he  thought  he  would  slacken  his  pace 
and  wait  for  them  to  come  up.  He  drew  in  the 
reins,  but  it  had  no  effect  on  the  horse,  which, 
looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  frightened  at 
something  that  was  pursuing  him,  bounded  off 
faster  than  ever.  Taking  a  firmer  hold  of  the 
reins,  Frank  pulled  again  with  all  his  strength,  but 
to  no  purpose.  Had  he  been  at  sea,  in  an  open 
boat,  without  rudder,  sails,  or  oars,  he  could  not 
have  been  more  helpless  than  he  was  at  that  mo- 
ment. His  horse,  perfectly  unmanageable,  was 
running  away  with  him !  In  an  instant,  the 
thought  flashed  through  Frank's  mind,  that  he  was 


A  BUFFALO   HUNT.  141 

in  the  very  position  the  trapper  had  so  emphati- 
cally cautioned  him  to  avoid.  But  still  he  was  not 
frightened,  until  he  cast  his  eyes  behind  him,  and, 
to  his  utter  dismay,  discovered  that  the  herd  had 
closed  in  on  all  sides  of  him.  Around  his  horse 
was  a  clear  space  of  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  in 
diameter,  which  was  slowly  but  surely  growing 
smaller,  as  the  frightened  animals  pressed  and 
crowded  against  each  other.  On  every  side  he  saw 
a  mass  of  horns,  and  tails,  and  shaggy  shoulders, 
which,  like  a  wall,  shut  him  away  from  his  compan- 
ions. Away  off  to  the  right,  he  saw  the  trappers, 
Archie,  and  Mr.  Winters,  no  longer  pursuing  the 
game,  but  gazing  after  him,  and  throwing  their 
arms  wildly  about.  If  they  shouted,  Frank  did 
not  hear  what  they  said,  for  the  noise  of  that  mul- 
titude of  hoofs  would  have  drowned  the  roar  of 
Niagara.  They  could  not  assist  him,  neither  could 
he  help  himself.  That  very  morning  the  trapper 
had  told  him  of  seeing  a  man  trampled  to  death 
by  a  herd  of  buffaloes,  and  now  a  similar  fate  was 
in  store  for  himself.  The  appalling  thought  seemed 
to  deprive  him  of  the  last  particle  of  strength,  for 
he  reeled  in  his  saddle,  and  only  caught  the  mane 
of  his  horse  just  in  time  to  save  himself  from  fall- 


142  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

ing  to  the  ground.  But,  as  was  always  the  case 
with  Frank,  when  placed  in  situations  of  extreme 
danger,  this  burst  of  weakness  quickly  passed. 
While  he  had  life,  he  could  not  relinquish  all  hope 
of  being  able  to  bring  himself  safely  out  of  even 
this,  the  most  perilous  position  in  which  he  had 
ever  found  himself.  He  could  determine  upon  no 
particular  plan  for  escape,  so  long  as  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  those  frantic  buffaloes.  The  only 
course  he  could  pursue  was  to  compel  Pete  to 
keep  pace  with  the  herd.  But  this  plan  did  not 
place  him  out  of  the  reach  of  danger.  He  knew 
that  buffaloes,  when  stampeded,  turn  aside  for 
nothing.  Neither  hills  nor  rivers  check  their  mad 
flight,  and  any  living  thing  that  stands  in  their  way 
is  trampled  to  death.  Even  the  exhausted  mem- 
bers of  the  herd,  unable  to  keep  pace  with  the 
others,  are  borne  down  and  crushed  to  a  jelly. 
They  neither  seem  to  hear  or  see  any  thing;  all 
their  senses  being  merged  into  the  desire  to  get  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  object  that  has  excited 
their  alarm;  and  they  seldom  stop  until  completely 
exhausted. 

Frank  knew  this,  and  the  question  that  arose  in 
his  mind  was,  "How  long  could  his  horse  stand 


A  BUFFALO   HUNT.  143 

that  rapid  gallop?"  He  appeared  to  be  as  thor- 
oughly frightened  as  the  buffaloes,  and  it  was  not 
at  all  probable  he  would  show  any  inclination  to 
stop,  so  long  as  he  saw  that  shaggy  mass  behind 
him,  or  could  hear  the  noise  of  their  hoofs,  which 
sounded  like  the  rumbling  of  an  immense  cataract. 
The  more  he  thought  of  his  critical  situation,  the 
firmer  was  his  belief  that  there  was  but  one  way 
open  to  him,  and  that  was  to  keep  ahead  of  the  ani- 
mals, which  were  behind  him.  Haying  determined 
upon  this,  he  again  cast  his  eyes  toward  the  place 
where  he  had  last  seen  his  friends.  They  were 
gone,  and  Frank  was  alone  in  the  midst  of  that 
multitude  of  frantic  buffaloes. 

When  the  trappers  had  discovered  Frank's  situa- 
tion, they  knew  it  was  out  of  their  power  to  assist 
him.  After  following  him  a  short  distance,  in 
the  vain  hope  of  making  him  hear  the  words  of  ad- 
vice and  encouragement  which  they  sent  after  him 
with  all  the  strength  of  their  lungs,  they  had  fallen 
back  out  of  sight.  Dick  had  advised  this  course, 
"Fur,"  said  he,  "  the  longer  we  foller  'em,  the  faster 
they'll  run.  They  won't  stop  till  they're  clean  gin 
out.  If  the  youngster  stays  on  his  hoss,  an'  keeps 


144  FRANK   ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

ahead  of  'em  till  they're  a  leetle  over  their  fright, 
he 'sail  right." 

Dick,  however,  did  not  intend  to  leave  his  young 
companion  altogether.  At  his  request,  Archie  gave 
up  Sleepy  Sam  to  him,  and,  after  assuring  the 
others,  who  were  in  a  state  of  intense  excitement 
and  alarm,  that  he  would  certainly  find  Frank  and 
bring  him  back  safe,  he  rode  off  in  the  direction  the 
buffaloes  had  gone,  while  the  rest  of  the  party  re- 
turned to  collect  their  game. 

Meanwhile,  Pete,  rendered  frantic  by  the  deaf- 
ening noice,  was  carrying  Frank  over  the  prairie  at 
a  terrific  pace.  The  young  hunter's  alarm  had 
somewhat  abated,  and  he  appeared  as  calm  as 
though  he  was  merely  taking  a  ride  for  amusement ; 
but  his  mind  was  exceedingly  busy,  and,  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time,  he  lived  over  his  whole  life. 
He  cast  frequent  and  anxious  glances  behind  him, 
but  could  see  no  change  for  the  better  in  his  situa- 
tion. The  buffaloes,  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach, 
pushed  and  crowded  against  each  other,  apparently 
as  frightened  as  ever,  but  taking  no  notice  whatever 
of  the  horseman  in  their  midst.  The  space  around 
his  horse  was  gradually  growing  smaller,  which 


A  BUFFALO   HUNT.  145 

made  Frank  shudder  when  he  thought  what  the 
result  would  be  if  they  should  close  in  upon  him. 

One  hour  passed,  and  still  the  frightened  herd 
dashed  on,  with  the  frantic  horse  and  his  helpless 
rider  in  their  midst,  without,  in  the  least,  slacken- 
ing their  pace.  Pete  was  evidently  in  distress. 
That  mad  gallop  was  telling  on  him  severely ;  but, 
while  those  buffaloes  were  behind  him,  all  attempts 
to  stop  him  would  have  been  useless.  Another 
hour  glided  by,  and,  to  his  joy,  Frank  discovered 
that  the  animals  behind  him  were  scattering,  and 
that  the  line  of  his  pursuers  was  growing  thinner. 
Those  in  front  still  ran  as  fast  as  ever — no  doubt, 
pushed  onward  by  those  behind  them,  while  those  in 
the  extreme  rear  were  evidently  getting  over  their 
fright.  Frank  looked  again  and  again,  to  satisfy 
himself  that  he  was  not  mistaken,  and  he  was  con- 
fident that,  if  his  horse  could  hold  out  half  an  hour 
longer,  the  buffaloes,  slowly  dividing  right  and  left, 
would  leave  a  way  of  escape  open  to  him.  The 
minutes  seemed  lengthened  into  hours;  but  his 
pursuers  were  now  rapidly  taking  up  their  places 
on  the  flanks  of  the  herd,  and,  in  a  short  time,  not 
a  buffalo  was  to  be  seen  behind  him. 

Again  Frank  pulled  the  reins,  and  Pete,  almost 
10 


146  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

exhausted,  and  no  longer  hearing  that  terrific  noise 
behind  him,  willingly  stopped.  Frank,  filled  with 
gratitude  for  his  escape,  threw  himself  from  the 
saddle,  just  as  the  last  of  the  buffaloes  were  disap- 
pearing over  a  neighboring  swell. 


A  NIGHT  AMONG   THE   WOLVES.  147 


CHAPTER    XII. 


T  would  be  impossible  to  describe 
Frank's  feelings,  as  he  stood  there, 
holding  his  panting,  reeking  horse,  and 
listening  to  that  rumbling  sound,  which 
grew  fainter  and  fainter,  as  the  buffa- 
loes dashed  on  their  way.  Now  that 
the  danger  of  being  trampled  to  death 
was  passed,  he  did  not  stop  to  think  of  what 
was  still  before  him.  He  cared  not  that  he  was 
forty  miles  from  the  old  bear's  hole,  and  that,  in 
three  hours,  the  sun  would  be  down,  and  he  com- 
pelled to  pass  the  night  alone  on  the  prairie.  All 
thoughts  of  what  he  knew  he  must  endure  before 
he  reached  the  camp  were  swallowed  up  in  thank- 
fulness that  he  had  been  able  to  bring  himself 
safely  out  of  the  most  dangerous  position  in  which 
he  had  ever  been  placed. 


148  FRANK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

In  a  few  moments  the  last  of  the  buffaloes  had 
passed  out  of  hearing,  and  Frank  then  turned  his 
attention  to  his  horse. 

Pete  looked  very  unlike  the  sleek,  spirited  ani-. 
mal  of  which  he  had  been  so  proud.  He  was  reek- 
ing with  sweat,  panting  loudly,  and  was  evidently 
very  nearly  exhausted.  Had  he  been  obliged  to 
carry  his  rider  a  few  miles  further,  Frank  might 
have  been  compelled  to  find  his  way  back  to  camp 
on  foot.  Pete  was  also  very  much  in  need  of 
water;  and  now  that  the  danger  was  over,  Frank 
found  that  he,  too,  was  very  thirsty.  During  his 
excitement  and  alarm  he  had  not  thought  of  it; 
but  now  that  he  was  able  to  think  calmly,  he  de- 
cided that  his  first  care  should  be  to  find  a  stream 
of  water,  where  he  might  quench  his  thirst. 

After  reloading  his  rifle  and  revolvers,  he  again 
took  Pete  by  the  bridle  and  led  him  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  mountains,  which,  as  near  as  he  could 
judge,  were  twenty  miles  distant.  Although  he 
was  most  anxious  to  reach  them  before  night,  in 
hopes  that  he  might  find  the  trapper,  (for  he  knew 
that  Dick  would  not  rest  easy  until  he  had  found 
him,)  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  riding 
his  horse  while  he  was  in  such  distress. 


A  NIGHT  AMONG  THE   WOLVES.  149 

At  length  he  reached  the  top  of  a  swell,  when 
fie  paused  to  look  about  him.  On  his  right  hand, 
about  a  mile  distant,  as  he  judged,  he  saw  a  long 
line  of  willows,  which  (so  the  trappers  had  told 
him)  were  a  sure  sign  of  water.  Toward  the  wil- 
lows, then,  he  directed  his  course,  in  hopes  that 
his  horse,  when  he  had  quenched  his  thirst  and 
eaten  a  few  mouthfuls  of  grass,  would  be  in  a 
condition  to  travel.  But  he  soon  found  that  it 
was  more  than  a  mile  to  the  willows — it  was  five 
times  that  distance — and  it  was  about  an  hour  be- 
fore sunset  when  Frank  reached  the  stream,  and, 
kneeling  down  on  the  bank,  took  a  long,  refreshing 
drink.  Here  he  had  a  most  lively  battle  with 
Pete.  The  horse  was  stubborn,  and  when  he  had 
determined  upon  a  course,  it  required  considerable 
persuasion  to  induce  him  to  abandon  it.  He 
wanted  to  drink  his  fill  of  the  water  at  once,  to 
which  Frank  objected;  and  it  was  not  until  Pete 
had  received  several  severe  blows  from  a  branch 
that  his  master  cut  from  one  of  the  willows,  that 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  led  out  of  the  stream. 
Frank  then  tied  him  to  a  tree,  removed  the  saddle, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  ground  to  determine 
upon  his  future  movements.  He  was  tired  and 


150  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

hungry;  he  did  not  like  the  idea  of  camping  on 
the  prairie  alone,  but  he  could  see  no  way  to 
avoid  it.  Then  he  thought  of  the  trapper,  and 
walked  out  on  the  prairie  to  look  for  him.  But 
Dick  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Had  Frank  re- 
mained where  he  had  escaped  from  the  buffaloes, 
he  would  then  have  been  in  the  company  of  his 
friend,  for  the  trapper  was  at  that  moment  stand- 
ing on  the  top  of  the  very  swell,  where  Frank  had 
stood  when  he  first  discovered  the  willows.  Use- 
less sat  by  his  side,  looking  up  into  his  master's 
face,  and  whining  as  if  he,  too,  wondered  what  had 
become  of  the  object  of  their  search.  Seeing  no 
signs  of  Frank,  Dick  concluded  that  he  was  still 
among  the  buffaloes,  so  he  kept  on  after  them,  now 
and  then  shaking  his  head  and  muttering — "The 
keerless  feller.  It  beats  all  natur'  how  that  boss 
of  his  'n  traveled."  But  Frank  did  not  know  that 
Dick  was  so  near  him,  and,  after  waiting  nearly 
an  hour  for  him  to  make  his  appearance,  he  re- 
turned to  the  willows,  and  sat  about  making  his 
preparations  for  the  night.  He  first  selected  a 
suitable  spot  for  a  camp,  and,  after  gathering  a  few 
dry  branches  and  lighting  a  fire  with  a  flint  and 
steel  he  found  in  Archie's  haversack,  he  took  his 


A   NIGHT   AMONG   THE   WOLVES.  151 

rifle  and  walked  along  the  bank  of  the  creek 'to 
find  something  for  his  supper.  He  generally  took 
great  pleasure  in  a  hunt,  but  there  was  no  sport 
in  this  one,  for  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  his 
recent  adventure  with  the  grizzly.  What  if  he 
should  meet  one  of  those  animals  ?  He  could  not 
hope  for  assistance  from  the  trapper.  He  had  no 
one  to  depend  upon  but  himself.  He  had  always 
had  great  confidence  in  his  skill  as  a  marksman, 
but  he  had  never  wished  for  an  opportunity  to 
try  it  on  a  grizzly  bear.  If  there  were  any  of 
those  animals  among  the  willows,  he  did  not  en- 
counter them,  and,  in  fact,  the  woods  did  not  ap- 
pear to  abound  in  game  of  any  kind.  The  only 
living  thing  he  discovered  was  a  raccoon  crossing 
the  creek  on  a  log  just  ahead  of  him. 

Frank,  knowing  that  he  was  working  for  his 
supper,  made  a  good  shot,  and  when  he  shouldered 
the  'coon  and  started  for  his  camp,  he  felt  relieved 
to  know  that  he  was  not  compelled  to  pass  the 
night  hungry.  He  had  often  heard  that  the  flesh 
of  the  'coon  was  excellent,  and  he  found  it  was  so ; 
whether  it  was  because  he  was  hungry,  or  because 
the  meat  was  really  good,  he  could  not  decide; 
but  at  any  rate,  he  ate  nearly  half  the  'coon,  and 


152  FRANK   ON   THE   PKAIRIE. 

hung  the  remainder  upon  a  limb  to  save  it  for  his 
breakfast.  Then,  after  gathering  a  supply  of  fire- 
wood, sufficient  to  last  all  night,  he  again  walked 
out  on  the  prairie  to  look  for  the  trapper.  But  he 
was  not  in  sight ;  and  when  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
Frank  returned  to  his  camp,  feeling  rather  lone- 
some. After  he  had  hobbled  Pete,  (which  he  did 
by  tying  one  end  of  his  halter  around  his  neck, 
and  the  other  to  one  of  his  fore  legs,)  and  turned 
him  loose  to  graze,  he  seated  himself  by  the  fire, 
and  heartily  wished  it  was  morning. 

There  was  nothing  pleasant  in  the  thought  that 
he  was  obliged  to  pass  the  night  alone.  He  had 
often  camped  out,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
living  in  such  a  wilderness.  Had  Dick  been  with 
him,  he  would  have  slept  as  soundly  as  he  ever  did 
at  home ;  but,  as  it  was,  there  was  no  probability 
of  his  enjoying  a  good  night's  rest.  It  grew  dark 
rapidly,  and  the  prairie,  so  deserted  and  still  in  the 
day-time,  now  seemed  to  be  crowded  with  wolves. 
He  had  heard  them  every  night  since  he  had  been 
on  the  plains,  but  he  had  never  listened  to  such  a 
chorus  as  saluted  his  ears  that  evening.  The  fact 
was,  they  had  been  attracted  by  a  buffalo  that  lay 
but  a  short  distance  from  Frank's  camp.  It  had 


A   NIGHT   AMONG   THE   WOLVES.  153 

been  wounded  by  the  hunters  in  the  morning,  and, 
becoming  separated  from  the  herd,  had  come  to 
the  creek  for  water,  and  died.  Frank  knew  that 
the  wolves  had  found  something,  for  he  could  hear 
them  growling  and  fighting  over  their  meal.  Sud- 
denly they  all  set  up  a  howl,  and  took  to  their 
heels.  They  did  not  go  far,  however,  but  appeared 
to  be  running  in  circles  about  their  prey,  as  if  they 
had  been  driven  away  by  some  larger  animal. 
Frank  was  not  pleased  with  his  neighbors,  and  did 
not  feel  at  all  inclined  to  go  to  sleep.  He  sat  be- 
fore his  fire,  with  his  rifle  across  his  knees,  and  his 
revolvers  close  at  hand,  sincerely  hoping  that  the 
wolves  would  not  approach  his  camp.  For  two 
hours  he  remained  in  this  position,  and  finally, 
becoming  more  accustomed  to  the  howls  of  the 
wolves,  he  leaned  against  a  tree,  and  was  fast  los- 
ing all  consciousness  of  what  was  going  on  around 
him,  when  he  was  aroused  by  his  horse,  which  came 
snorting  through  the  willows,  and  did  not  stop 
until  he  had  placed  himself  close  to  his  master  for 
protection.  This  alarmed  Frank,  who,  remember- 
ing how  Pete  had  acted  the  day  before,  was  certain 
that  there  was  a  grizzly  bear  prowling  about  his 
camp  j  and,  fearful  that  his  horse,  if  left  to  him- 


154  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

self,  would  run  away,  he  slipped  the  bridle  over  his 
head,  and  tied  him  securely  to  a  tree.     While  thus 
engaged,  he  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  bushes,  as 
if  some   heavy  animal  was   endeavoring  to  pass 
carefully  through  them.     This  continued  for  half 
an  hour,  during  which  the  animal,  whatever  it  was, 
walked    entirely   around    his    camp.      This    tried 
Frank's  nerves  severely.     To  sit  there,  in  those 
woods,  and  listen  to  some  animal  walking  about, 
perhaps  watching  for  an    opportunity   to    spring 
upon  him,  was  almost  as  bad  as  facing  a  grizzly. 
Again  and  again  the  animal  made  the  circuit  of  the 
camp,  and  presently  Frank  saw  a  pair  of  eyes,  that 
looked  like  two  coals  of  fire,  glaring  at  him  through 
the  darkness.     Should  he  fire  at  the  animal?     If 
it  was  a  grizzly,  and  the  wound  should  not  prove 
fatal,  his  life  would  not  be  worth  a  moment's  pur- 
chase.    There  might  be  bushes  between  him  and 
the  beast,  that  would  glance  the  ball,  or  his  hand 
might  prove  unsteady.     It  was  a  risk  he  did  not 
like  to  take;  but  he  could  try  the  effect  of  fire  on 
him.     So,  catching  up  a  brand,  he  threw  it  at  the 
eyes,  which  instantly  disappeared. 

During  the  livelong  night  did  Frank  sit  by  the 
fire,  holding  his  rifle  in  his  hands,  now  and  then 


A  NIGHT   AMONG  THE   WOLVES.  155 

caressing  his  horse,  which  stood  close  beside  him, 
trembling  with  fear ;  while,  at  regular  intervals,  he 
heard  a  rustling  in  the  willows,  which  told  him 
that  his  enemy  was  still  on  the  watch. 

But  all  things  have  an  end.  At  length,  to 
Frank's  immense  relief,  day  began  to  dawn.  As 
soon  as  he  could  distinctly  discern  the  nearest  ob- 
jects, he  again  hobbled  his  horse,  and,  after  turning 
him  loose  to  graze,  began  to  prepare  his  breakfast. 
After  he  ha.d  cooked  and  eaten  the  last  vestige  of 
the  'coon,  he  saddled  Pete,  and,  turning  his  back 
upon  the  place  where  he  had  passed  a  most  uncom- 
fortable night,  set  out  toward  the  mountains. 

About  the  same  hour,  the  trapper  arose  from 
the  prairie,  where  he  had  made  his  camp,  and 
where  he  had  slept  soundly,  in  spite  of  the  howling 
of  the  wolves,  and,  mounting  Sleepy  Sam,  began 
to  follow  up  the  trail  of  the  buffaloes.  Each  was 
looking  for  the  other,  and  both  were  traveling  in 
exactly  opposite  directions. 

Frank  had  a  long  ride  before  him,  and  it  was 
monotonous  and  tiresome.  Pete  appeared  to  have 
fully  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his  long  run,  for 
he  carried  his  rider  at  a  rapid  pace;  but,  at  sun- 
set, Frank  had  not  reached  the  mountains.  He 


156  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

could  not  bear  the  thought  of  camping  on  that  bare 
prairie,  where  he  could  have  no  fire,  and  -he  re- 
solved to  ride  until  he  reached  the  timber  at  the  base 
of  the  mountains,  if  it  took  him  until  midnight. 
Darkness  settled  down  over  the  prairie,  and,  a 
short  time  afterward,  he  reached  the  woods.  As 
he  rode  slowly  along,  in  the  hope  of  discovering 
some  stream,  on  the  banks  of  which  he  could 
camp,  he  saw  a  light  shining  through  the  trees. 
A  second  look  showed  him  that  it  was  a  camp-fire. 
No  doubt  he  would  find  Dick  there.  Without  hes- 
itating an  instant,  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
rode  up  in  full  view  of  the  fire,  around  which  he 
saw  four  men  lying  on  their  blankets. 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          157 


CHAPTER   XIII 


RANK'S  sudden  appearance  created 
considerable  of  a  commotion  in 
the  camp,  for  the  men  sprang  to  their 
feet  and  reached  rather  hurriedly  for 
their  weapons.  They  were  evidently 
alarmed;  and  Frank  was  a  good  deal 
surprised  thereat,  for  he  had  not  dreamed 
that  men  accustomed  to  the  dangers  of  the  prairie — 
as  these  undoubtedly  were — could  be  frightened  at 
the  sudden  approach  of  a  single  bewildered  horse- 
man. He,  however,  rode  straight  up  to  the  fire, 
where  the  men  stood  with  their  rifles  in  their  hands, 
and  exclaimed,  as  he  dismounted  from  his  horse  : 
"  Good  evening,  gentlemen  !  " 
His  politeness  did  not  serve  to  allay  the  fears 
of  the  men,  for  they  regarded  him  sharply  for  a 
moment,  and  then  one  of  them  asked,  in  a  voice 


158  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

that  somewhat  resembled  the  growl  of  an  enraged 
bear : 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  am  lost,"  replied  Frank.  "  My  horse  was 
stampeded  with  a  herd  of  buffaloes,  and  I  am  now 
making  the  best  of  my  way  back  to  my  friends." 

The  man  slowly  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  then  answered,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  showed 
that  he  did  not  believe  Frank's  statement : 

"  Lost !  Lost,  aint  ye  ?  Wai,  what  in  tarna- 
tion are  ye  lost  fur?  Why  don't  ye  go  whar  ye 
b'long  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  I  want  to  do  ! "  replied  Frank, 
who,  astonished  at  the  manner  in  which  he  was  re- 
ceived, and  fearful  that  he  would  be  compelled  to 
pass  another  night  alone  on  the  prairie,  did  not 
notice  the  sly,  meaning  glances  which  the  men  ex- 
changed. "  I  am  trying  to  find  my  friends.  I  left 
them  at  the  '  old  bear's  hole,'  if  you  know  where 
that  is." 

This  statement  was  received  with  something  like 
a  long  breath  of  relief  by  the  trappers — for  such 
they  undoubtedly  were — and  the  spokesman  con- 
tinued : 

"  Then,  ye  're  sartin  ye  're  lost,  an'  that  ye  aint 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          159 

got  no  friends  nigher  nor  the  ole  bar's  hole  ?  Who 
war  ye  travelin'  with  ?  Who 's  yer  comp'ny  ?  " 

"  Dick  Lewis  and  old  Bob  Kelly,"  replied  Frank, 
mentioning  the  names  of  the  guides,  with  the  hope 
that  some  of  his  new  acquaintances  might  know 
them ;  nor  was  the  hope  a  vain  one,  for  the  trap- 
pers repeated  the  names,  and  again  exchanged 
those  sly  glances,  which  Frank  noticed  but  could 
not  understand : 

"  So  ole  Bob  is  yer  comp'ny,"  said  his  ques- 
tioner, at  length ;  "  an*  ye  're  sartin  ye  left  him  at 
the  ole  bar's  hole !  Then,  ye  won't  be  likely  to 
set  eyes  on  him  to-night,  'cause  the  bar's  hole  ar'  a 
good  fifty  mile  from  here,  an',  if  ye 're  actooally 
an'  sartinly  lost,  ye  aint  no  ways  likely  to  find  it 
in  the  dark." 

The  trapper  was  evidently  forgetting  his  fears 
and  recovering  his  good  nature — if  he  possessed 
that  quality — for,  as  he  resumed  his  seat  at  the 
fire,  he  continued,  in  a  somewhat  milder  tone : 

"  If  yer  hoss  war  stampeded,  stranger,  he  must 
be  powerful  lively  on  his  legs  to  have  tuk  ye  so  fur; 
but,  I  reckon,  ye  must  be  travelin'  a  leetle  out  of 
yer  latitude.  It  aint  often  that  a  feller  meets  a  tee- 
total stranger  in  these  parts  what  says  he's  lost,  an' 


160  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

we  do  n't  like  to  take  in  every  one  as  comes  along ; 
but,  if  so  be  that  ye  are  a  friend  of  Dick  an'  ole 
Bob,  ye  can  hobble  yer  hoss  an'  camp  here  with 
us.  Ye  can  sleep  by  our  fire  to-night,  an'  in  the 
mornin'  we  '11  set  yer  on  the  right  track." 

Frank  gladly  complied  with  this  invitation,  and, 
after  relieving  his  horse  of  the  saddle,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  fire,  and  began  to  make  a  close  ex- 
amination of  his  new  acquaintances.  They  were 
all  large,  muscular  men,  and  were  dressed  in  com- 
plete suits  of  buckskin,  which  were  very  ragged 
and  dirty.  Their  faces  were  almost  covered  with 
thick,  bushy  whiskers,  and  their  hair,  which,  judg- 
ing by  its  tangled  appearance,  had  never  been 
made  acquainted  with  a  comb,  hung  down  to  their 
shoulders.  The  man  who  had  acted  the  part  of 
spokesman,  was  particularly  noticeable,  being  more 
ragged  and  dirty  than  his  companions,  and  his 
face,  which  bore  several  ugly  scars,  was  almost  as 
black  as  a  negro's. 

In  short,  they  were  a  very  ferocious  looking  set, 
and  Frank  almost  wished  he  had  remained  on  the 
prairie  instead  of  coming  to  their  camp.  But, 
after  all,  he  might  be  very  much  mistaken  in  his 
men.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  persons  of 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          161 

their  calling,  who  had  no  doubt  lived  on  the  prairie 
from  boyhood,  who  had  been  exposed  to  all  kinds 
of  weather,  and  braved  innumerable  dangers,  it 
could  not  be  expected  that  such  men  should  always 
present  a  neat  appearance.  Beneath  their  rough 
exterior  there  might  be  hidden  the  warmest  of 
hearts.  And  as  for  their  reception  of  him,  they 
had  doubtless  treated  him  as  they  treated  every 
stranger  they  met  on  the  prairie — on  the  prin- 
ciple, "Believe  every  man  an  enemy,  until  he 
proves  himself  otherwise." 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing .  through 
Frank's  mind,  the  trappers  had  been  regarding 
him  closely  and  with  evident  curiosity. 

The  result  of  their  examination  appeared  to 
be  satisfactory,  for  the  spokesman  presently  re- 
marked : 

"  It 's  plain,  stranger,  that  yer  out  of  yer  callin'. 
Ye  do  n't  b'long  on  the  prairy.  Yer  from  the 
States,  we  take  it." 

Frank  replied  that  he  was,  and  then  proceeded 
to  give  the  trappers  an.  account  of  the  circum- 
stances that  had  brought  him  to  the  prairie,  and 
also  told  how  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 

Dick  and  old  Bob ;  to  all  of  which  the  men  listened 
11 


162  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

eagerly,  now  and  then  exchanging  the  same  sly 
glances  that  Frank  had  before  noticed.  When  he 
had  finished  his  story,  the  swarthy  trapper  arose 
to  his  feet,  and,  going  to  a  tree  close  by,  took 
down  a  piece  of  buffalo  meat,  from  which  he  cut 
several  slices  that  he  placed  on  the  coals,  remark- 
ing as  he  did  so : 

"Whenever  we  do  meet  a  stranger  in  these 
pnrts,  an'  he  turns  out  to  be  the  right  kind  of  a 
cliap,  we  allers  treat  him  as  handsome  as  we  know 
how.  We  can't  offer  you  anything  more 'n  a 
chunk  of  buffaler  hump,  but  sich  as  we  have  yer 
welcome  to." 

The  offer  was  evidently  made  in  all  sincerity, 
and  if  Frank  still  entertained  any  fears  that  the 
men  were  not  what  they  should  be,  he  speedily 
dismissed  them,  and  again  blessed  his  lucky  stars 
that  he  was  not  compelled  to  pass  another  night 
alone  on  the  prairie. 

While  his  supper  was  cooking,  he  was  again 
plied  with  questions,  the  most  of  them  relating  to 
the  movements  of  old  Bob ;  and  especially  did  the 
trappers  seem  anxious  to  learn  where  he  was  going, 
and  what  he  intended  to  do  when  he  returned  from 
California.  Frank  answered  these  questions  aa 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          163 

well  as  he  could,  and  his  replies  seemed  to  satisfy 
the  men,  one  of  whom  finally  changed  the  subject 
of  the  conversation,  by  remarking  : 

"  I  '"11  allow  that 's  a  fine  shootin'  iron  of  your  'n, 
stranger,  but  it 's  a  new-fangled  consarn,  I  should 
say." 

Frank,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  Archie's  rifle, 
which,  being  a  breech-loading  weapon,  was  some- 
thing the  trappers  had  never  seen  before,  and  it 
required  considerable  explanation  to  enable  them 
to  understand  "how  the  consarn  worked." 

From  his  rifle  they  went  to  the  other  articles  of 
his  "  kit."  The  contents  of  his  haversack  were 
examined,  the  qualities  of  his  hunting-knife  and 
revolvers  discussed,  and  then  they  turned  their  at- 
tention to  his  horse — made  inquiries  concerning 
his  speed  and  bottom,  until,  weary  with  their  ques- 
tioniDg,  they  stretched  themselves  out  by  the  fire 
and  went  to  sleep. 

After  eating  his  supper,  Frank  followed  their 
example ;  and,  being  completely  exhausted,  having 
scarcely  closed  his  eyes  during  the  preceding  night, 
he  slept  soundly  until  morning. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  just  daylight.  The  trap- 
pers had  already  arisen ;  the  fire  had  been  replen- 


164  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

ished,  and  several  slices  of  meat  were  broiling  oa 
the  coals. 

They  hardly  noticed  Frank ;  the  only  reply  his 
polite  greetings  received,  being  a  sort  of  grunt 
and  a  slight  nod  of  the  head.  After  washing  his 
hands  and  face  in  the  creek  that  ran  close  by — a 
proceeding  which  the  trappers  regarded  with  un- 
disguised contempt — he  seated  himself  at  the  fire 
with  the  others  and  began  helping  himself  to  the 
meat,  at  the  same  time  inquiring  the  way  to  the  old 
bear's  hole. 

"That  ar'  is  the  way,  stranger,"  replied  the 
swarthy  trapper,  pointing  in  a  direction  exactly 
contrary  to  the  one  Frank  had  pursued  the  day 
before;  "an',  as  I  told  ye  last  night,  it's  nigh  on 
to  fifty  miles  off." 

After  this,  they  again  relapsed  into  silence,  and  as 
soon  as  they  had  finished  their  breakfast,  went  out 
to  catch  their  horses.  Frank  accompanied  them ; 
all  his  old  fears  that  there  was  something  wrong, 
revived  with  redoubled  force,  and  he  was  anxious 
to  leave  the  company  of  his  new  acquaintances  as 
soon  as  possible.  When  he  had  caught  arid  saddled 
Pete,  he  left  him  standing  for  a  few  moments,  until 
he  secured  his  rifle  and  haversack,  and  when  he 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          165 

turned  to  mount,  he  saw  one  of  the  trappers  seize 
the  horse  by  the  bridle  and  spring  into  the  saddle. 
Frank  gazed  in  surprise  at  these  movements,  but 
before  he  could  speak,  the  swarthy  trapper  turned 
suddenly  upon  him,  exclaiming  : 

"Look  a  here,  stranger!  Ye  come  here  last 
night  without  nobody's  askin'  ye,  an*  tells  us  some 
kind  of  a  story  'bout  yer  bein'  lost,  an'  all  that. 
Now,  mebbe  yer  all  right,  an'  mebbe  ye  aint.  Ye 
may  have  friends  no  great  way  off,  that  ye  kalker- 
late  to  bring  down  on  us ;  but  ye  can't  ketch  old 
foxes  like  us  in  no  sich  trap  as  that  ar'.  We're 
jest  goiii'  to  take  yer  hoss  to  keep  yer  from  findin* 
yer  friends  ag'in  in  a  hurry.  Yer  young  fur  sich 
bisness  as  this  yere,  an'  if  ye  did  n't  look  so  mighty 
innercent,  I  'd  split  yer  wizzen  fur  ye.  So  now 
be  off  to  onct,  an'  do  n't  never  cross  our  trail  ag'in. 
If  ye  do — "  The  trapper  finished  the  sentence  by 
shaking  his  head  threateningly. 

Frank  listened  to  this  speech  in  utter  bewilder- 
ment. He  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  But  it 
was  plain  that  the  trappers  were  in  earnest,  for 
the  one  who  had  mounted  Pete  held  his  own  horse 
by  the  bridle,  in  readiness  to  start.  He  fully  re- 
alized his  helpless  situation,  and  it  almost  over- 


166  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

powered  him.  But,  at  length,  he  found  courage 
to  say : 

"You  are  certainly  mistaken.  I  am  lost.  T 
do  n't  know  where  to  go  to  find  my  friends,  and,  if 
you  take  my  horse  from  me,  I  may  never  find  them 
again.  Besides,  what  is  your  object  in  robbing 
me?" 

"Wai,  now,  stranger,"  said  the  trapper,  drop- 
ping the  butt  of  his  rifle  to  the  ground,  and  leaning 
upon  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon,  "we  jest  aint  a 
goin'  to  stand  no  foolin'.  We  b'lieve  yer  a  spy, 
an'  ar'  goin'  to  bring  Bob  Kelly  an'  the  rest  of  yer 
friends  down  on  us.  That's  jest  what's  the  mat- 
ter. The  prairy  is  cl'ar,  thar  aint  no  Injuns  to 
massacree  ye;  ye  have  a  good  pair  of  legs,  so  trot 
off  on  'em  to  onct.  Ye  can  be  glad  enough  that 
we  didn't  tie  ye  up  to  a  tree,  an'  leave  ye  to  the 
wolves.  If  ole  Kelly  could  get  his  hands  on  us, 
we  'd  be  used  a  heap  wusser  nor  robbin',  an'  you 
know  it  well  enough.  An'  when  ye  see  the  ole 
chap,  ye  can  tell  him  that  the  next  time  he  wants 
to  try  to  ketch  Black  Bill,  he  '11  have  to  get  up  a 
better  trick  nor  this  yere.  Come,  now,  mizzle — 
sally  out  to  onct — an'  do  n't  stop  to  talk,  'cause  it 
won't  do  no  arthly  good  whatsomever.  Yer  hoss 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          167 

is  gone — that's  settled — an',  if  yer  shootin'  iron 
were  any  'count,  we  'd  a  tuk  that  too.  We  've  left 
ye  three  loads,  an'  that'll  kill  game  enough  to  do 
ye  till  ye  find  yer  friends.  Come,  walk  off — make 
yourself  skeerce,  sudden." 

There  was  a  wicked,  determined  look  in  the 
trapper's  eye  that  told  Frank  that  he  was  in  ear- 
nest; and,  fully  convinced  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  remonstrate,  and  fearful  that  if  he  did  not  obey 
the  order,  the  man  would  fulfill  his  threat  of 
tying  him  to  a  tree,  and  leaving  him  to  the  mercy 
of  the  wolves,  he  shouldered  his  rifle,  and,  with  a 
heavy  heart,  set  off  on  his  journey. 

When  he  reached  the  top  of  a  high  swell,  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  camp,  he  looked  back,  and 
saw  the  trappers  riding  off  at  a  rapid  gallop,  Pete 
playing  and  prancing  with  his  new  rider  as  if  he 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  change.  Frank 
watched  them  as  long  as  they  remained  in  sight, 
and  then,  throwing  himself  on  the  ground,  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  gave  away  to  the  most 
bitter  thoughts.  What  could  have  induced  the 
trappers  to  act  so  treacherously?  Did  they  really 
suspect  him  of  being  a  spy,  or  was  that  merely  an 
excuse  to  rob  him  in  his  defenseless  situation? 


168  FRANK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

The  whole  transaction  was  involved  in  a  mystery 
he  could  not  fathom,  nor  was  it  at  all  probable  that 
he  could  arrive  at  a  solution  until  he  should  see 
Dick  or  old  Bob  Kelly.  Would  he  ever  see  them 
again,  was  a  question  he  dare  not  ask  himself. 
The  chances  were  certainly  not  in  his  favor,  situ- 
ated as  he  was,  alone,  in  the  midst  of  an  unbroken 
wilderness,  the  prairie  stretching  away,  on  one 
hand,  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  the  Rocky 
Mountains  looming  up  on  the  other.  But  he  was 
not  one  to  look  altogether  upon  the  dark  side  of 
the  picture.  It  had  a  bright  side  as  well,  and  he 
found  that  he  had  reason  to  congratulate  himself 
that  the  outlaws — for  such  he  now  knew  them  to 
be — had  let  him  off  so  easily.  What  if  they  had 
left  him  bound  to  a  tree,  as  they  had  threatened  ? 
The  chances  were  not  one  in  a  hundred  that  he 
would  ever  have  been  released.  Although  his 
horse  had  been  taken  from  him,  he  had  been  al- 
lowed to  go  free,  and  to  retain  his  rifle  and  hunt- 
ing-knife. Yes,  his  situation  might  have  been  in- 
finitely worse.  He  still  had  much  to  be  grateful 
for,  and,  as  long  as  he  had  life,  he  would  cherish 
the  hope  of  being  able  to  find  his  way  to  his  friends. 
As  these  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind,  they 


FRANK'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.          169 

brought  renewed  strength  and  determination,  and, 
rising  to  his  feet,  he  again  set  out  at  a  brisk  walk. 
He  remembered  that  the  outlaws  had  told  him 
that,  in  order  to  reach  the  old  bear's  hole,  he  must 
travel  in  a  direction  exactly  opposite  to  the  one  he 
was  pursuing ;  but  he  had  good  reason  to  believe 
that  they  had  endeavored  to  mislead  him.  When 
he  took  his  involuntary  ride,  he  was  careful  to  re- 
member the  points  of  the  compass,  and,  as  Pete 
had  carried  him  exactly  south,  of  course,  in  order 
to  reach  his  friends,  he  must  travel  north.  He  had 
no  compass,  but  the  sun  was  just  rising,  and  he  was 
able  to  calculate  all  the  points  from  that.  Having 
settled  this  to  his  satisfaction,  he  began  an  examin- 
ation of  his  haversack,  and  found  that  its  contents 
had  been  thoroughly  overhauled — no  doubt  while 
he  was  asleep — and  that  the  outlaws  had  left  him 
three  cartridges  for  his  rifle,  and  his  flint  and  steel. 
All  the  other  articles,  which  consisted  of  several 
rounds  of  ammunition  for  his  revolvers  (which  had 
gone  off  with  his  horse),  stone  arrow-heads,  spear- 
heads, the  claws  of  the  bear  that  Dick  had  killed 
in  the  cave,  and  numerous  other  relics  which  Ar- 
chie had  collected  since  leaving  St.  Joseph,  had  all 
been  abstracted. 


170  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

In  spite  of  his  unpleasant  situation,  Frank  could 
not  repress  a  smile,  when  he  thought  how  indignant 
his  cousin  would  be,  when  he  received  an  account 
of  his  losses.  Having  completed  his  examination, 
and  placed  his  remaining  cartridges  carefully  away 
in  his  pocket,  he  resumed  his  journey,  and,  just  as 
he  reached  the  top  of  a  swell,  he  discovered  a 
horseman  galloping  rapidly  along  the  edge  of  the 
willows  that  fringed  the  base  of  the  mountains. 
The  thought  that  he  saw  something  familiar,  about 
both  the  horse  and  his  rider,  had  scarcely  passed 
through  Frank's  mind,  when  he  was  electrified  by 
the  sight  of  a  large  brindle  dog,  which  ran  in  and 
out  of  the  bushes,  with  his  nose  close  to  the 
ground,  now  and  then  uttering  an  impatient  bark, 
which  was  answered  by  yells  of  encouragement 
from  the  horseman.  There  was  no  mistaking  that 
yell,  and  Frank  ran  down  the  swell,  swinging  his 
hat,  and  endeavoring  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  man  with  a  voice  which,  in  his  excitement,  he 
could  scarcely  raise  above  a  whisper.  But  he 
was  discovered.  Both  dog  and  horseman  turned 
toward  him,  and,  a  moment  afterward,  Frank  had 
one  arm  around  the  neck  of  Useless,  and  his  hand 
was  inclosed  in  the  trapper's  vice-like  grasp. 


THE    TRADER  S   EXPEDITION. 


171 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


,"  exclaimed  Frank,  as  soon 
as  he  could  speak,  "this  is  the 
second  time  you  have  found  me 
when  lost ;  but  I  wish  you  had  come 
a  little  sooner,  for — " 
"Youkeerless  feller!"  interrupted 
the  trapper,  who  knew  in  a  moment 
that  there  was  something  wrong,  "you  teetotally 
keerless  feller!  whar's  your  hoss?  Tell  me,  to 
onct,  what's  come  on  him." 

"  He  was  stolen  from  me,"  answered  Frank.  "  I 
camped  last  night  about  two  miles  from  here,  with 
a  party  of  trappers,  and  they  robbed  me." 

"Did!"  exclaimed  Dick.  "Bar  and  buffaler ! 
who  war  they?  They  war  n't  no  trappers,  I  can 
tell  ye,  if  they  done  that  ar'  mean  trick.  Tell  me 
all  about  it  to  onct." 


172  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

Frank  then  proceeded  to  relate  all  that  had 
transpired  at  the  camp ;  told  how  closely  the  men 
had  questioned  him  concerning  the  intended  move- 
ments of  old  Bob ;  repeated  all  the  threats  which 
the  outlaw  had  made,  and  concluded  his  narrative 
with  saying : 

"  He  told  me  that  when  I  saw  old  Bob  again,  I 
could  say  to  him,  that  the  next  time  he  wanted  to 
catch  Black  Bill,  he—" 

"  Black  Bill ! "  almost  yelled  the  trapper.  "  Black 
Bill !  That  arj  tells  the  hul  story.  The  scoundrel 
had  better  steer  cl'ar  of  me  an'  old  Bob,  'cause  I  'm 
Bob's  chum  now,  an'  any  harm  that 's  done  to  him 
is  done  to  me  too.  I  can  tell  you,  you  keerless 
feller,  you  oughter  be  mighty  glad  that  you  aint 
rubbed  out  altogether." 

"  I  begin  to  think  so  too,"  replied  Frank ;  "  but, 
Dick,  I  want  my  horse." 

"  Wai,  then,  you  '11  have  to  wait  till  he  comes  to 
you,  or  till  them  ar'  fellers  git  ready  to  fetch  him 
back.  'Taint  no  'arthly  use  to  foller  'em,  'cause 
they  '11  be  sartin  to  put  a  good  stretch  of  country 
atween  them  an'  ole  Bob  afore  they  stop.  Your 
hoss  ar'  teetotally  gone,  youngster — that 's  as  true 
as  gospel.  I  tell  you  ag'in,  'taint  every  one  that 


THE  TRADER'S  EXPEDITION.  173 

Black  Bill  let  's  off  so  easy.  Climb  up  behind  me, 
an'  let 's  travel  back  to  the  ole  bar's  hole." 

Frank  handed  his  rifle  to  his  companion,  mounted 
Sleepy  Sam,  and  the  trappers  drove  toward  the 
camp,  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  For  nearly  an 
hour  they  rode  along  without  speaking  to  each 
other.  Dick,  occasionally  shaking  his  head  and 
muttering  "  Bar  an'  buffaler — you  keerless  feller." 
But  at  length  he  straitened  up  in  the  saddle,  and 
holding  his  heavy  rifle  at  arm's  length,  exclaimed : 

"  Youngster,  I  do  n't  own  much  of  this  world's 
plunder,  an'  what's  more,  I  never  expect  to.  But 
what  little  I  have  got  is  of  use  to  me,  an'  without  it 
I  should  soon  starve.  But  I  'd  give  it  all  up  sooner 
nor  sleep  in  a  camp  with  Black  Bill  an'  his  band  of 
rascals.  I  'd  fight  'em  now  if  I  should  meet  'em, 
an'  be  glad  of  the  chance ;  but  thar  's  a  heap  of 
difference  atween  goin'  under,  in  a  fair  skrimmage, 
an'  bein'  rubbed  out  while  you  ar  asleep.  Durin' 
the  forty  year  I  've  been  knocked  about,  I  've 
faced  a'most  every  kind  of  danger  from  wild  In- 
juns an'  varmints,  an'  I  never  onct  flinched — till  I 
rid  on  them  steam  railroads — but,  youngster,  I 
would  n't  do  what  you  done  last  night  fur  nothin'. 
Howsomever,  the  danger  's  all  over  now,  an'  you 


174  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

have  come  out  with  a  hul  skin;  so  tell  me  what 
you  done  while  you  war  lost." 

The  manner  in  which  the  trapper  spoke  of  the 
danger  through  which  he  had  passed,  frightened 
Frank  exceedingly.  He  knew  that  Dick  was  as 
brave  as  a  man  could  possibly  be,  and  the  thought 
that  he  had  unconsciously  exposed  himself  to  peril 
that  the  reckless  trapper  would  shrink  from  en- 
countering, occasioned  feelings  of  terror,  winch 
could  not  be  quieted  even  by  the  knowledge  that 
he  had  passed  the  ordeal  with  safety ;  and  when, 
in  compliance  with  the  guide's  request,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  his  adventures,  it  was  with  a 
trembling  voice,  that  could  not  fail  to  attract  the 
trapper's  attention. 

"  I  do  n't  wonder  you  're  skeered,"  said  he,  as 
Prank  finished  his  story.  "  It  would  skeer  a'most 
any  body.  But  it 's  over,  now,  an'  it  aint  no  ways 
likely  you  '11  ever  meet  'em  ag'in.  Me  an'  ole  Bob 
will  see  'em  some  day,  an'  when  we  settle  with  'em, 
we  will  be  sartin  to  take  out  pay  fur  that  hoss. 
When  we  git  to  camp  Bob  '11  tell  you  how  he  hap- 
pens to  owe  Black  Bill  a  settlement.  When  we 
seed  you  goin'  off  in  that  ar'  way/'  continued  the 
trapper,  turning  around  in  his  saddle  so  as  to  face 


THE  TRADER'S  EXPEDITION.  175 

Frank,  "  we  did  n't  feel  no  ways  skeery  'bout  your 
comin'  back  all  right,  if  you  got  away  from  the  buf- 
falers.  Your  uncle  said,  *  In  course  the  boy  has 
got  sense  enough  to  see  that  the  mountains  now 
ar'  on  his  right  hand,  an'  to  know  that  when  he 
wants  to  come  back,  he  must  keep  them  on  his  left 
hand;'  an'  jest  afore  he  went  to  sleep,  I  heered  him 
say  to  ole  Bob,  i  I  wonder  how  Frank  is  gettin'  on 
without  his  blanket.'  Your  little  cousin  said,  'I 
*hope  he  '11  fetch  back  my  rifle,  an'  my  possible-sack, 
an'  the  things  what 's  in  it,  all  right,  'cause  I  should 
hate  to  lose  them  Injun's  top-knots.  I  guess  he 
won't  laugh  none,  when  he  finds  put  that  all  them 
stone  arrer-heads,  an'  spear-heads,  an'  other  fixin's 
ar'  gone/  Ole  Bob,  he  knowed,  too,  that  you 
would  turn  up  all  right  if  you  could  keep  on  your 
hoss  till  he  stopped.  But,  bar  and  buffaler !  we 
did  n't  think  you  war  goin'  to  camp  with  that  var- 
let,  Black  Bill.  If  we  had,  thar  would  n't  have 
been  much  sleepin'  done  in  our  camp  last  night." 

Having  thus  assured  Frank  that  his  friends  had 
entertained  no  fears  of  his  ability  to  find  his  way 
back  to  the  wagon,  the  trapper  again  alluded  to 
the  subject  of  the  robbery,  obliging  his  young 
companion  to  relate  the  particulars  over  and  over 


176  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

again,  each  time  expressing  his  astonishment  and 
indignation  in  no  very  measured  terms.  In  this 
way  they  passed  the  fifteen  miles  that  lay  between 
them  and  the  camp,  and  finally  arrived  within  sight 
of  the  "ole  bar's  hole." 

Mr.  Winters,  Archie,  and  Bob  were  seated  on 
the  ground  near  the  wagon,  but  when  they  discov- 
ered the  trapper  riding  toward  them  with  Frank 
mounted  behind  him,  they  rose  to  their  feet  in 
surprise,  and  Archie  inquired,  as  he  grasped  his 
cousin's  hand — 

"Did  your  horse  run  himself  to  death?" 
Before  Frank  could  answer,  Dick  sprang  from 
the  saddle,  exclaiming : 

"Bob!  Black  Bill 's  on  the  prairy." 
"Black  Bill  on  the  prairy!"  repeated  the  old 
man,   slowly,  regarding  his  friend  as  if  he  was 
hardly  prepared  to  believe  what  he  had  heard. 

"Yes,  he  ar'  on  this  yere  very  prairy,"  replied 
Dick;  -"an',  Bob,"  he  continued,  stretching  his 
brawny  arms  to  their  fullest  extent  in  front  of  him, 
and  clenching  his  huge  fists,  "  an',  Bob,  that  ar' 
keerless  feller  actooally  camped  with  him  an'  his 
rascally  chums,  last  night.  Yes,  sir,  staid  in  their 
camp  an'  slept  thar,  an'  this  mornm'  they  said  as 


THE  TRADER'S  EXPEDITION.  177 

how  he  war  a  spy  of  your'n,  sent  to  ketch  'em;  so 
they  stole  his  boss." 

Old  Bob  was  so  astonished  at  this  intelligence, 
that  he  almost  leaped  from  the  ground ;  while  Dick, 
without  allowing  the  excited  listeners  an  opportu- 
nity to  ask  a  question,  seated  himself  beside  Mr. 
Winters  and  proceeded  to  give  a  full  account  of 
all  that  had  transpired  at  Black  Bill's  camp ;  dur- 
ing which,  Archie,  surprised  and  indignant  at  the 
treatment  his  cousin  had  received,  learned  that  he 
also  had  been  a  heavy  loser  by  the  operation.  All 
his  beloved  relics  were  gone.  But  they  still  had 
miles  of  Indian  country  to  traverse,  and  these 
could  be  replaced ;  while  Frank,  in  being  robbed 
of  his  horse  had  sustained  a  loss  that  could  not  be 
made  good.  Archie  was  generous ;  and,  declaring 
that  he  had  ridden  on  horseback  until  he  was  actu- 
ally tired  of  it,  told  his  cousin  to  consider  Sleepy 
Sam  as  his  own  property,  an  offer  which  the  latter 
emphatically  refused  to  accept. 

"Never  mind,  youngster,"  said  old  Bob,  who  had 
listened  to  all  that  had  passed  between  the  cousins, 
"  never  mind.  You  shan't  lose  nothin'  by  bein' 
robbed  by  that  varlet.  Me  an'  Dick  will  put  you 

on  hossback  ag'in  afore  you  're  two  days  older. 
12 


178  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

But  this  yere  shows  you  that  you  ought  n't  to  make 
friends  with  every  feller  you  meet  on  the  prairy, 
no  more  'n  you  would  in  a  big  city.  Now  if  you 
war  lost  in  the  settlements,  and  did  n't  know  whar 
to  go  to  find  your  hum,  you  would  think  twice  afore 
you  would  camp  with  a  teetotal  stranger,  an'  a  fel- 
ler oughter  do  the  same  thing  on  the  prairy.  I 
larnt  that  long  ago,  an'  through  that  same  feller, 
Black  Bill.  Years  ago,  when  Dick's  old  man  war 
alive,  it  war  n't  so.  If  a  feller  got  a  leetle  out  of 
his  reckonin',  an'  walked  into  a  stranger's  camp, 
he  could  roll  himself  up  in  his  blanket  an'  sleep  as 
safe  an'  sound  as  he  could  any  whar,  an'  neither 
man  war  n't  afraid  that  the  other  would  rub  him 
out  afore  daylight.  But  it  aint  so  now.  Them 
fellers  in  the  settlements  got  to  doin'  meanness,  an' 
run  here  to  git  cl'ar  of  the  laws.  But  they  found 
thar  war  law  here  too;  an'  when  they  done  any 
of  their  badness,  an'  we  got  our  hands  on  'em,  we 
made  short  work  with  'em.  But  they  kept  comin' 
in  fast,  and  when  three  or  four  of  'em  got  together, 
they  would  take  to  the  mountains,  an'  thar  war  n't 
no  use  tryin'  to  ketch  'em.  When  we  seed  how 
things  war  agoin',  a  lot  of  us  ole  trappers,  that 
had  knowed  each  other  fur  years,  made  np  a 


THE  TRADER'S  EXPEDITION.  179 

eomp'ny.  We  had  to  do  it  to  defend  ourselves 
ag'in  them  varlets,  fur  it  soon  got  so  it  war  n't 
healthy  fur  a  lone  man  on  the  prairy,  if  he  had 
any  plunder  wuth  baggin'.  We  stuck  together  till 
that  Saskatchewan  scrape,  an'  now  me  an'  Dick 
ar'  the  only  ones  left.  I  do  n't  say  that  we  're  the 
only  honest  trappers  agoin',  'cause  that  aint  so. 
Thar  ar'  plenty  of  good  ones  left;  but  we  ar'  the 
last  of  our  comp'ny,  an',  somehow,  we  do  n't  keer 
'bout  trappin'  with  strangers. 

u  Wai,  one  spring  we  went  to  the  fort  to  trade 
off  the  spelter  we  had  ketched  durin'  the  winter, 
an'  the  trader  we  sold  'em  to,  war  makin'  up  a 
comp'ny  to  go  to  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri, 
lie  war  goin'  with  his  expedition,  an'  he  wanted  us 
to  go  too.  He  offered  us  good  pay ;  he  would  find 
us  we'pons,  bosses,  traps,  and  provender  fur  nothin', 
an'  buy  our  furs  to  boot.  He  done  this  'cause 
thar  war  a  good  many  traders  workin'  ag'in  him, 
an'  he  wanted  to  be  sartin  of  gittin'  all  the  furs  we 
trapped.  We  had  a  leetle  talk  among  ourselves 
about  it,  an',  finally,  told  him  that  it  war  a  bargain, 
an'  that  we  would  go.  So  he  writ  down  our  names, 
an'  we  tuk  up  our  quarters  in  the  fort  till  the  day 
come  to  start.  The  trader's  name  war  Forbes,  an' 


180  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

as  he  war  our^oss,  we  used  to  call  him  Cap'n 
Forbes.  He  war  n't  jest  the  kind  of  a  man  a  feller 
would  take  to  be  a  trader — he  smelt  too  much  of 
the  settlements — an'  even  at  the  fort,  among  rough 
trappers  an'  soldiers,  he  would  spruce  up  an'  strut 
like  a  turkey.  'Sides,  he  had  a  nigger  to  wait  on 
him  an'  take  keer  of  his  hoss.  As  I  war  sayin', 
we  noticed  all  these  things,  but  we  did  n't  keer  fur 
'em,  fur,  in  course,  it  war  n't  none  of  our  consarn  ; 
all  we  wanted  war  fur  him  to  pay  us  fur  the  spelter 
we  ketched,  an'  we  knowed  he  could  do  that,  fur 
the  fellers  all  said  he  had  a  big  pile  of  gold  an' 
silver  that  he  carried  in  his  saddle-bags. 

"  Wai,  we  packed  our  blankets  an'  we'pons  down 
to  the  quarters  the  cap'n  pointed  out,  an'  when  we 
got  thar,  we  found  he  had  half  a  dozen  chaps  down 
'sides  ourselves.  We  knowed  one  or  two  of  'em,  (an' 
we  did  n't  know  nothin'  good  of  'em  neither,)  but  the 
others  war  strangers  to  us.  Among  the  strangers 
war  Black  Bill — Bosh  Peters  he  said  his  name  war. 
He  war  a'most  as  black  as  the  cap'n's  darkey,  an' 
thar  war  a  bad  look  in  his  eye  that  none  of  us 
did  n't  like.  An'  him  an'  his  crowd  war  n't  at  all 
pleased  to  see  us  neither ;  fur,  although  they  met 
us  kind  enough,  asked  us  to  help  ourselves  to  their 


181 

grub,  an'  inquired  'bout  our  luck  in  trappin',  durin' 
the  last  season,  thar  war  somethin'  'bout  them  that 
told  us  plainer  nor  words  that  they  would  have 
been  much  better  satisfied  if  we  had  stayed  away. 

"It  war  a'most  night  when  we  went  to  the  quar- 
ters, an'  arter  we  had  eat  our  supper,  we  smoked 
our  pipes,  spread  our  blankets,  an'  went  to  sleep. 
How  long  I  slept  I  do  n't  know;  but  I  waked  up 
sometime  durin'  the  night,  an'  thought  I  heered 
somebody  talkin'  in  a  low  voice.  I  listened,  an', 
sure  enough,  thar  war  two  fellers  jest  outside  of 
the  quarters  plannin'  somethin'.  I  heered  one  of 
'em  ask : 

"<  When  shall  we  doit?' 

" '  Time  enough  to  think  of  that  when  we  git  to 
the  mountains,'  said  the  other. 

"  '  But  ar'  you  sartin'  he 's  goin'  to  take  it  with 
him?' 

"  *  In  course !     I  heered  him  say  so  ! ' 

"'  Wai,  then,  it 's  all  right.  But  we  must  be 
mighty  keerful,  'cause  our  boys  do  n't  like  the 
looks  of  them  last  fellers  that  jined  the  comp'ny. 
So  keep  a  still  tongue  in  your  head.'  They  done 
some  more  plannin'  and  talkin',  but  I  could  n't 
hear  what  it  war.  Then  they  moved  away  in 


182  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

different  directions,  an'  purty  quick  somebody  come 
into  the  quarters,  easy  like,  an'  laid  down  on  his 
blanket,  but  it  war  so  dark  I  could  n't  see  who  it 
war.  Wai,  I  thought  the  matter  all  over,  an'  soon 
made  up  my  mind  that  the  varlets  had  been  plan- 
nin'  an'  talkin'  ag'in  the  trader  and  his  money- 
bags ;  but  when  I  told  the  boys  of  it  the  next 
mornin',  they  all  laughed  at  me,  an'  said  the  cap'n 
war  n't  fool  enough  to  tote  so  much  money  to  the 
mountains  with  him  when  he  could  leave  it  at  the 
fort,  whar  it  would  be  safe.  They  told  me  I  had 
better  not  speak  of  it  ag'in,  fur  if  it  got  to  the 
trader's  ears,  he  might  think  I  war  a  greeny.  Wai, 
I  war  quite  a  youngster,  that 's  a  fact ;  but  it 
war  n't  long  afore  it  come  out  that  I  had  more 
sense  nor  any  of  'em." 


THE  OUTLAW'S  ESCAPE.  183 


CHAPTER   XV. 


EFORE  goin'  further,"  continued 
the  trapper,  "I  oughter  tell  you 
that  this  Black  Bill  had  been  on 
the  prairy  a  long  time.  Like  a  good 
many  others,  he  had  run  away  from 
the  law  in  the  States,  an',  fallin'  in 
with  more  rascals  as  bad  as  he  war,  he  soon  made 
himself  known,  by  name,  to  nearly  every  trapper 
in  the  country.  'Sides  robbin'  lone  men  he  met  on 
the  prairy  an'  in  the  mountains,  he  would  jine  in 
with  Injuns,  an'  lead  'em  ag'in  wagon  trains. 

"None  of  our  comp'ny  had  ever  seed  him,  al- 
though, in  course,  we  had  often  heered  of  him,  an' 
we  never  onct  thought  that  he  would  have  the  face 
to  jine  in  with  a  party  of  honest  trappers  ;  so  we 
called  him  Peters,  bein'  very  fur  from  thinkin'  that 
he  war  the  feller  that  had  done  so  much  mischief. 


184  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

If  we  had  kiiowed  who  he  war,  prairy  law  would  n'i 
have  let  him  live  five  minits. 

"  Wai,  arter  we  had  been  at  the  fort  'bout  twG 
weeks,  Cap'n  Forbes  got  every  thing  ready  fur  the 
start,  an',  one  mornin',  bright  an'  'arly,  we  sot  off 
tVards  the  mountains.  Thar  war  fourteen  of  us 
altogether — seven  of  us  fellers,  five  of  Bosh  Peters' 
party,  the  trader,  and  his  darkey.  We  had  four 
pack  mules;  and,  as  the  Cap'n  war  n't  a  bit  stingy, 
he  had  give  us  good  we'pons  an'  plenty  of  powder 
an'  lead.  I  hadn't  forgot  what  them  two  fellers 
said  that  night,  although  I  had  n't  never  spoke 
about  it,  fur  fear  of  bein'  laughed  at — an'  I  kept 
close  watch  on  the  trader,  to  find  out  if  he  had  his 
money  with  him.  He  carried  a  pair  of  saddle- 
bags, an'  they  were  well  packed,  too ;  but,  judgin' 
by  the  keerless  way  he  throwed  them  around,  when 
we  camped  fur  the  night,  thar  war  n't  no  money  in 
'em.  Bosh  Peters  and  his  party  had  all  along 
been  tryin'  to  git  on  the  right  side  of  us,  and  purty 
soon  our  fellers  begun  to  think  that  we  had  been 
fooled  in  'em,  an'  that  they  war  all  right  arter  all. 

"  Wai,  when  we  reached  the  trappin'  grounds, 
we  built  our  quarters  fur  the  winter,  an'  then  com- 
menced work.  The  trader  went  with  one  feller 


THE  OUTLAW'S  ESCAPE.  185 

one  day,  an'  with  another  the  next.  He  war  n't 
no  trapper ;  but  he  liked  the  sport,  an'  seemed  to 
want  to  larn  how  it  war  done.  But,  arter  awhile 
he  got  tired  of  this,  an'  staid  in  the  camp  from 
mornin'  till  night.  He  never  went  out  with  me; 
if  he  had,  I  should  have  told  him  to  keep  his  eye 
on  them  money-bags,  if  he  had  'em  with  him. 

"One  day,  as  I  war  at  work  settin'  a  trap  in  a 
clump  of  bushes  that  grew  on  the  banks  of  a  little 
creek,  I  heered  some  fellers  comin'  along,  talkin'  to 
each  other.  Now,  jest  that  one  little  thing  war 
enough  to  make  me  b'lieve  that  thar  war  some- 
thin'  wrong  in  the  wind,  'cause,  when  fellers  go 
out  to  hunt  an'  trap,  an'  fur  nothin'  else,  they 
do  n't  go  together  through  the  woods,  as  though 
they  were  huntin'  cows.  So  I  sot  still  an'  listened, 
an'  purty  quick  heered  Bosh  Peters  talkin'.  Thar 
war  one  feller  with  him,  but  the  bushes  war  so 
thick  I  could  n't  see  him,  an'  I  did  n't  know  his 
voice.  They  war  comin'  right  t'wards  me,  an' 
when  they  reached  the  creek,  one  of  'em  went  to 
get  a  drink,  an'  the  others  sot  down  on  a  log  not 
ten  foot  from  me.  Purty  soon  I  heered  Bosh  Pe- 
ters say : 

" '  I  know  it 's   time  we  war  doin'  somethin', 


186  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

Tom,  but  I  'm  a'most  afraid  to  try  it.  Them  'ar 
fellers  are  seven  to  our  five,  an'  if  we  shouldn't 
happen  to  get  away,  we  would  ketch  prairy  law, 
sartin  ;  an'  that 's  a  heap  wusser  nor  law  in  the 
settlements.  They  do  n't  give  a  feller  a  chance  to 
break  jail  on  the  prairy.' 

"'Black  Bill,'  said  the  other,  'thar's  jest  no 
use  a  talkin  that  'ar  way.  If  we  're  a  goin'  to  do 
it  at  all,  now  is  jest  as  good  a  chance  as  we  shall 
have.  The  cap'n  stays  in  the  camp  all  day  alone, 
an'  afore  the  other  chaps  get  back  to  larn  what's 
done,  we  can  be  miles  in  the  mountains.' 

"  <  Wai,  then,'  said  Black  Bill,  < let's  do  the  job 
to  onct.  The  cap'n  war  in  the  camp  this  mornin* 
when  I  left,  an'  if  he  's  thar  this  arternoon,  we  '11 
finish  him,  an'  the  money-bags  are  ourn.  But 
let 's  move  off;  it  won't  do  fur  us  to  be  seed  to- 
gether.' 

"  The  varlets  walked  away,  an'  I  lay  thar  in 
them  bushes  fifteen  minutes  afore  I  stirred.  This 
war  the  fust  time  that  I  knowed  Black  Bill  war 
one  of  our  comp'ny.  To  say  that  I  war  surprised 
to  hear  it,  would  n't  half  tell  how  I  felt.  I  war 
teetotally  tuk  back.  The  idee  of  that  feller  corn- 
in'  into  our  camp,  when  he  knowed  that  if  he  war 


187 


found  out,  short  work  would  be  made  with  him  ! 
I  could  hardly  b'lieve  it.  But  I  could  n't  lay 
thar,  foolin'  away  time  with  such  thoughts,  when 
I  knowed  that  the  capVs  life  war  in  danger.  So, 
tliinkin'  the  rascals  had  got  out  of  sight  an'  hear- 
in',  I  crawled  out  of  the  bushes,  intendin'  to  start 
at  onct  fur  the  camp,  an'  tell  the  fellers  what  I 
had  jest  heered.  I  walked  down  to  the  creek  fust, 
to  get  a  drink,  an'  jest  as  I  war  bendin'  over,  I 
heered  the  crack  of  a  rifle ;  a  bullet  whistled  by, 
not  half  an  inch  from  my  head,  an'  buried  itself 
in  the  ground.  I  jumped  to  my  feet,  an'  lookin* 
up  the  bank,  saw  a  leetle  smoke  risin'  from  behind 
a  log  not  twenty  yards  distant.  Grabbin'  my 
rifle,  which  I  had  laid  down  as  I  war  goin'  to 
drink,  I  rushed  acrost  the  creek,  an'  the  next 
minit  war  standin'  face  to  face  with  Black  Bill. 
Fur  an  instant  the  chap  shook  like  a  leaf,  an' 
turned  as  pale  as  his  black  skin  would  let  him. 
Then  he  seemed  to  find  his  wits  ag'in,  fur  he  stuck 
out  his  hand,  sayin': 

"  <  By  gum,  Bob  Kelly  !  is  that  you  ?  I  '11  be 
shot  if  I  didn't  take  you  fur  an  Injun.  I'm 
mighty  glad  I  did  n't  hit  you,  Bob  ! ' 

"  '  You  can  't  blarney  me,  Black  Bill,'  said  I. 


188  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

*I  know  you;'  an'  as  I  stood  thar  lookiri'  at  the  ras- 
cal, an'  thought  of  all  the  badness  he  had  done,  I 
had  half  a  mind  to  shoot  him.  The  way  of  it 
war,  the  varlet  kind  o'  thought  that  somebody 
had  been  listenin'  to  what  he  said  'bout  robbin' 
the  cap'n,  an'  he  had  hid  behind  the  log  to  watch. 
When  he  seed  me  come  out  of  the  bushes,  he 
knowed  that  I  had  heered  all  that  had  been  goin' 
on,  an'  he  thought  his  best  plan  war  to  leave  me 
thar  dead.  But,  although  he  war  n't  twenty  yards 
off  when  he  fired  at  me,  he  missed  me  teetotally. 
Wai,  when  he  seed  that  I  knowed  him,  an'  that 
he  couldn't  fool  me  into  b'lievin'  that  he  tuk  me 
fur  an  Injun,  he  thought  he  would  skeer  me,  so 
he  growled : 

"  '  If  you  know  me,  Bob  Kelly,  you  know  a 
man  that  won't  stand  no  nonsense.  I  have  friends 
not  fur  off,  an'  if  you  know  any  thing,  you  '11  travel 
on  'bout  your  own  bisness.' 

"'Now,  look  a  here,  Black  Bill,'  said  I,  <I 
haint  never  been  in  the  habit  of  standin'  much 
nonsense,  neither — leastways  not  from  such  fel- 
lers as  you,  an'  if  you  knowed  me,  you  would 
know  that  I  do  n't  skeer  wuth  a  charge  of  gun- 
powder. That  'ar  is  the  way  to  the  camp,  an' 


189 

if  you  want  to  live  two  minutes  longer,  you'll 
travel  off  to  onct.'  Seem'  that  he  didn't  start, 
but  that  he  stood  eyein'  me  as  if  he  'd  a  good 
mind  to  walk  into  me,  I  stepped  back,  an'  p'intin' 
my  rifle  straight  at  his  heart,  said  :  *  I  shan't  tell 
you  more  'n  onct  more  that  'ar  is  the  way  to  camp. 
You  can  go  thar,  or  you  can  stay  here  fur  the 
wolves,  jest  as  you  please.' 

"I  guess  he  seed  that  I  war  in  'arnest,  fur  he 
shouldered  his  empty  rifle,  an'  started  through  the 
woods,  I  follerin'  close  behind,  ready  to  drop  him 
if  he  should  run  or  show  fight.  I  felt  mighty  on- 
easy  while  travelin'  through  that  timber,  'cause  I 
knowed  well  enough  that  the  rascal  had  friends, 
an'  if  one  of  'em  should  happen  to  see  me  march- 
in'  Black  Bill  off  that  'ar  way,  he  'd  drop  me,  sar- 
tin.  But  I  reached  the  camp  in  safety,  an'  thar 
I  found  two  of  our  own  fellers,  an'  -four  that  I  had 
allers  thought  war  friends  of  Black  Bill.  They 
all  jumped  up  as  we  came  in,  fur  they  knowed  by 
the  way  I  looked  that  somethin'  war  wrong,  an' 
one  of  'em  said : 

"< What's  Bosh  Peters  been  a  doin',  Bob?' 
"  t  That  aint  no  Bosh  Peters,'  said  I ;    <  that  'ar 
chap  is  Black  Bill.' 


190  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

"  Now  comes  the  funniest  part  of  the  hul  bis- 
ness.  Every  trapper  on  the  prairy,  as  I  told  you, 
had  heered  of  Black  Bill,  an'  when  I  told  'em  that 
my  prisoner  war  the  very  chap,  an'  that  he  had 
been  layin'  a  plan  to  rob  the  cap'n,  I  never  seed 
eich  a  mad  set  of  men  in  my  life. 

"They  all  sot  up  a  yell,  an'  one  of  'em,  that  I 
would  have  swore  war  a  friend  of  Black  Bill, 
drawed  his  knife,  an'  made  at  the  varlet  as  if  he  war 
goin'  to  rub  him  out  to  onct.  But  my  chum,  Ned 
Roberts,  ketched  him,  and  tuk  the  we'pon  away 
from  him.  This  sot  the  feller  to  bilin',  and  he 
rushed  round  the  camp  wusser  nor  a  crazy  man. 
He  said  that  Black  Bill  had  shot  his  chum,  an'  that 
he  war  swore  to  kill  him  wherever  he  found  him ; 
and  he  war  goin'  to  do  it,  too.  An'  the  fust  thing 
we  knowed,  he  grabbed  somebody's  rifle,  an' 
jumped  back  to  shoot  the  pris'ner.  But  he  war 
ketched  ag'in,  afore  he  could  fire,  and  then  he 
howled  wusser  nor  ever.  Wai,  we  tied  Black  Bill 
to  a  tree  in  the  camp,  an'  this  feller  kept  slippin' 
round,  with  his  tomahawk  in  his  hand,  an'  it  tuk 
two  men  to  get  the  we'pon  away  from  him. 

"  The  chap  tuk  on  so,  that  we  all  thought  that 
he  told  the  truth,  but,  (would  you  believe  it?)  I 


191 

arterwards  larnt  that  he  war  the  very  same  chap 
that  I  had  heered  talkin'  with  Black  Bill  'bout  rob- 
biri'  the  cap'n.  He  kind  o'  thought  that  we  might 
know  something  ag'in  him,  an'  he  carried  on  in  that 
way  to  make  us  b'lieve  that  he  war  really  an  en- 
emy of  Black  Bill.  In  course  we  did  n't  know  this 
at  the  time.  If  we  had,  he  'd  soon  been  a  pris'ner 
too.  But,  supposin'  him  to  be  tellin'  the  gospel 
truth,  we  felt  sorry  fur  him,  an'  promised  that 
Black  Bill  shouldn't  ever  be  let  loose  to  do  mean- 
ness ag'in.  While  the  fuss  war  goin  on,  the  trader 
come  out ;  an'  when  we  told  him  what  happened — 
how  the  pris'ner  an'  one  of  his  friends,  that  we 
did  n't  know,  had  been  layin'  a  plan  to  do  robbery 
an'  killin';  an'  that  the  chap  he  called  Bosh  Pe- 
ters war  none  other  than  Black  Bill  the  outlaw — I 
never  seed  a  man  so  tuk  back  in  my  life.  It 
skeered  him  purty  bad.  He  had  allers  looked 
upon  Black  Bill  as  one  of  the  honestest  men  in 
the  expedition;  an',  when  he  found  that  he  war  a 
traitor,  he  didn't  know  who  to  trust;  an'  he  tuk 
mighty  good  keer  not  to  be  alone  durin'  the  rest 
of  the  arternoon. 

"  Wai,  when  it  growed  dark,  the  fellers  began  to 
come  in  from  their  day's  work,  some  loaded  with 


192  FRANK    ON    THE    PRAIRIE. 

furs,  an'  others  with  a  piece  of  bar  or  big-horn, 
which  they  had  knocked  over  for  supper.  As  fast 
as  they  come  in,  we  told  'em  what  war  up,  an' 
they  did  n't  take  it  very  easy,  now,  I  tell  you. 

"  The  idee  that  Black  Bill,  arter  doin'  so  much 
badness — robbin'  lone  trappers  an'  leadin'  wild  In- 
juns ag'in  wagon  trains — should  come  into  one 
of  our  forts,  an'  stick  his  name  down  with  those 
of  honest,  hard-workin'  trappers,  when  he  knowed 
that  every  one  of  'em  had  plenty  ag'in  him,  I  say 
it  war  hard  to  b'lieve.  But  thar  he  war,  tied  to 
a  tree,  an',  when  the  boys  come  to  look  at  him 
close,  they  wondered  that  they  had  n't  knowed 
afore  that  he  war  a  villain. 

"Wai,  we  waited  a  long  time  for  all  of  our  fel- 
lers to  come  in ;  but  thar  war  three  of  us  inissin', 
an'  that  war  the  only  thing  that  saved  Black  Bill. 
We  didn't  want  to  pass  sentence  on  him  without 
let  tin'  all  the  boys  have  a  chance  to  say  somethin' ; 
an'  as  they  might  come  in  some  time  durin'  the 
night,  we  thought  we  would  keep  the  varlet  till 
morning.  So  we  tied  him,  hand  an'  foot,  and  laid 
him  away  in  one  of  the  cabins.  The  cap'n's  dar- 
key made  him  a  bed  of  hemlock  boughs,  an'  laid 
him  on  it,  abusin'  him  all  the  while  like  ail  natur', 


THE  OUTLAW'S  ESCAPE.  193 

an'  goin'  in  for  shootin'  him  to  onct.  It  would 
have  been  well  for  one  of  us,  if  we  had  put  that 
darkey  in  there  as  a  pris'ner  too,  But  we  did  n't 
know  it,  an'  afore  we  got  through  he  cost  us  the 
life  of  one  of  the  best  men  in  our  comp'ny.  The 
fellers  then  all  went  to  bed  except  me.  I  guarded 
the  varlet  till  the  moon  went  down,  and  then,  arter 
calling  my  chum,  who  war  to  watch  him  till  day- 
light, I  went  into  my  quarters  an'  slept  soundly 
all  the  rest  of  the  night.  When  it  come  mornin', 
I  awoke,  an',  in  a  few  minits,  all  our  boys  war  up. 
The  fellers  had  all  come  in  durin'  the  night,  an'  ole 
Jim  Roberts — my  chum's  ole  man — who  war  our 
leader,  called  a  council.  Black  Bill  didn't  seem 
to  have  a  friend  among  us,  for  the  last  man  of  us 
said  as  how  the  law  must  be  lived  up  to. 

"'Who  guarded  him  last  night?'  asked  the  ole 
man. 

"  '  I  did,'  I  answered,  *  till  the  moon  went  down, 
and  then  Ned  tuk  my  place.' 

"  '  Wai,  Ned,  bring  out  the  pris'ner,'  said  the  ole 
man.  'But  whar  is  Ned?'  he  asked,  runnin'  his 
eye  over  the  camp.  <  Ned !  Ned  Roberts ! ' 

"I  had  all  along  s'posed  that  Ned  war  still 
guardin'  the  pris'ner;  but  when  he  didn't  answer, 
13 


194  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

I  knowed  in  a  minit  that  somethin'  had  been  goin' 
wrong  ag'in,  an'  the  others  knowed  it  too,  fur  men 
who  have  lived  in  danger  all  their  lives  aint  long 
in  seem'  through  a  thing  of  that  kind.  So  we  all 
rushed  to  the  cabin  where  we  had  left  the  outlaw, 
an'  there  lay  my  chum — stark  an'  dead — stabbed 
to  the  heart !  The  pris'ner  war  gone.  Thar  war 
the  strips  of  hickory  bark  we  had  tied  him  with, 
an'  thar  war  the  knife  he  had  used — but  Black 
Bill  had  tuk  himself  safe  off.  We  stood  thar,  not 
knowin'  what  to  say  or  do.  Ole  Jim  war  the  fust 
that  could  speak. 

" 4  Another  gone,'  said  he  ;  '  an'  it 's  my  only 
son ;  an'  now  whar  's  the  traitor  ? ' 

*"  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us  as  he 
said  this,  but  no  one  answered. 

" '  He 's  here  right  among  you,'  said  the  ole 
man,  the  tears  rollin'  down  his  cheeks.  '  He  's 
right  among  you.  That  knife  couldn't  got  in 
here  without  hands ;  an'  thar  's  somebody  in  this 
yere  camp,  that's  helped  Black  Bill  in  makin'  his 
escape.  Speak,  men,  who  's  the  outlaw's  friend?' 

"But  still  no  one  answered.  We  all  knowed  he 
war  thar,  but  how  could  we  tell  who  it  war,  when 
we  had  no  proff  ag'in  any  one  ? 


195 


" i  Bring  him  out,  boys,'  said  the  old  man,  at 
last.  'He  war  a  kind  son,  an'  a  good  trapper. 
But  he  's  done  his  work  now,  an'  we  've  lost  one 
of  the  best  men  in  our  comp'ny.' 

"  Wai,  we  carried  poor  Ned  out,  an'  arter  layin' 
him  in  my  cabin,  we  started  off  on  the  trail  of  the 
outlaw.  But  he  had  a  good  long  start,  an'  that 
night  we  had  to  come  back  without  him.  I've 
never  seen  him  from  that  day  to  this. 

"  The  next  mornin'  none  of  us  went  out  to  trap, 
fur  we  could  n't  help  thinkin'  of  poor  Ned.  He 
war  the  fust  chum  I  had  ever  had,  an'  me  an'  him 
had  been  together  a'most  ever  since  we  had 
strength  to  shoulder  a  rifle — more'n  ten  year — 
an',  in  course,  I  war  in  natur'  bound  to  avenge  hfm. 
I  staid  in  my  quarters,  wonderin'  who  it  war  that 
had  helped  the  outlaw ;  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  I 
happened  to  think  of  somethin'  that  brought  me  to 
my  feet  in  a  hurry,  an'  sent  me  into  ole  Jim's 
quarters.  I  talked  the  matter  over  with  him,  told 
him  what  I  thought,  an',  in  a  few  minits  more,  we 
called  our  boys  together,  an'  war  mar  chin'  t' wards 
the  trader's  camp.  The  darkey  war  cookin'  his 
master's  breakfast,  in  front  of  the  cabin,  singin' 
in'  whistlin'  as  jolly  as  could  be;  but  when  he 


196  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

seed  us  a  comin'  he  shet  up  in  a  mighty  hurry, 
an'  actooally  turned  white  !  I  knowed  he  would  n't 
act  that  ar'  way  if  he  war  n't  guilty,  so  I  sung  out, 
t  Here  's  the  traitor,  boys  ! ' 

"  The  darkey,  seein*  that  the  thing  war  out,  start- 
ed to  run.  He  had  n't  gone  far,  howsomever,  afore 
we  had  him,  an'  then  he  'fessed  the  hul  bisness. 
He  said  he  had  told  the  outlaw  that  the  cap'n 
war  goin'  to  take  his  money-bags  with  him,  an' 
that,  bein'  the  last  to  leave  Black  Bill  arter  we  had 
tied  him,  he  had  hid  the  knife  in  his.  bed.  The 
pris'ners  arms  had  been  fastened  above  his  elbows, 
an',  in  course,  havin'  a  sharp  we'pon,  it  war  the 
easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  cut  himself  loose,  an' 
to  pitch  into  poor  Ned  afore  he  knowed  it.  Arter 
he  had  'fessed  this,  we  held  a  council,  an'  prairy 
law  tuk  its  course.  This  skeered  the  trader  wusser 
nor  ever.  If  his  own  servant  war  treacherous,  he 
could  n't  trust  nobody.  So  he  ordered  us  to  break 
up  our  camp  an'  strike  fur  the  fort.  When  we  got 
thar,  an'  offered  to  give  up  our  bosses  an'  we'pons, 
he  would  n't  listen  to  it  at  all.  He  said  that  we 
had  saved  him  an'  his  money-bags,  an'  that  we 
could  keep  our  kit,  an'  welcome. 

"  Wai,  our  huntin'  expedition  bein'  broke  up,  we 


197 

put  out  on  our  own  hook.  We  still  thought  that 
them  four  fellers  b'longed  to  Black  Bill's  party,  an* 
we  soon  found  that  it  war  so ;  fur  we  had  hardly  got 
out  of  sight,  afore  they  started  fur  the  mountains. 
They  knowed  'bout  whar  to  go  to  find  the  outlaw, 
an'  they  've  been  with  him  ever  since,  robbin'  an' 
stealin'.  One  of  his  party  has  been  rubbed  out, 
but  thar  ar'  four  of  them  left  yet,  an'  they  do  a 
heap  of  mischief.  I  have  looked  an'  watched  fur 
'em  fur  years,  an'  if  I  never  find  'em,  I  shall  leave 
'em  to  Dick;  so  I  know  justice  will  be  done  'em. 
If  you  had  knowed  all  these  things,  youngster>  I 
do  n't  reckon  you  would  have  slept  very  sound  in 
Black  Bill's  camp." 


198  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


(HE  travelers  had  been  intensely  inter- 
ested in  the  old  trapper's  story,  and 
not  even  the  thought  that  the  danger 
was  passed,  and  that  Frank  was  safe  in 
camp  again,  could  altogether  quiet  their 
feelings.  Frank  was  more  astonished 
than  ever,  and  he  secretly  determined 
that  he  would  never  again  lose  sight  of  the  wagon, 
if  he  could  avoid  it.  But,  if  he  should  again  he 
compelled  to  take  an  involuntary  ride,  and  should 
happen  to  fall  in  with  strangers  on  the  prairie,  he 
would  give  them  a  wide  berth. 

Mr.  Winters  said  nothing.  He  did  not  think 
that  the  occasion  demanded  that  he  should  caution 
his  nephew,  for  it  was  by  no  means  probable  that 
the  latter  would  soon  forget  his  night  in  the  out- 
law's camp. 


THE   KING   OF   THE   DEOVE.  199 

His  adventures,  which  were  the  subject  of  a 
lengthy  conversation,  did  not,  however,  entirely 
quench  his  love  of  excitement,  and  when,  after  a 
hearty  dinner  on  buffalo  hump,  Archie  proposed  a 
short  ride  on  the  prairie,  he  agreed  to  accompany 
him,  and,  as  soon  as  he  had  caught  and  saddled 
his  uncle's  horse,  was  ready  for  the  start.  As 
they  rode  along  out  of  the  woods,  Archie  informed 
his  cousin  that  another  herd  of  buffaloes  had  been 
seen  that  morning  by  old  Bob,  feeding  near  the  base 
of  the  mountains,  and  announced  his  determination 
of  endeavoring  to  shoot  one,  if  they  should  happen 
to  come  across  them.  As  there  was  now  no  dan- 
ger of  being  stampeded — both  of  their  horses  being 
old  buffalo  hunters — Frank  agreed  to  the  proposal, 
and  followed  his  cousin,  who  led  the  way  toward 
the  place  where  the  buffaloes  had  last  been  seen. 
Swell  after  swell  they  mounted,  straining  their 
eyes  in  every  direction,  without  discovering  the 
wished-for  game. 

But  they  saw  something  else  that  excited  them 
quite  as  much  as  the  sight  of  a  herd  of  buffaloes 
would  have  done;  for,  as  Archie,  who  had  ridden 
some  distance  in  advance  of  his  cousin,  reached  the 
top  of  one  of  the  hills,  Frank  saw  him  suddenly 


200  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

draw  rein,  and  back  his  horse  down  the  swell,  out 
of  sight  of  something  which  he  had  discovered  on 
the  other  side.  He  then  rode  back  to  meet  Frank, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  came  within  speaking  distance, 
whispered,  excitedly : 

"  There Js  a  big  drove  of  wild  horses  out  there." 
Frank  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but,  throwing  his 
bridle  to  his  cousin,  dismounted  from  his  horse, 
and,  going  cautiously  to  the  top  of  the  swell,  looked 
over.  Sure  enough,  there  they  were,  about  half  a 
mile  distant,  probably  five  hundred  of  them,  scat- 
tered about  over  the  prairie,  some  feeding,  and 
others  prancing  about,  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of 
danger.  Among  them  was  one  horse — an  iron- 
gray — rendered  conspicuous  by  his  great  size  and 
extraordinary  beauty,  which  galloped  about  as  if 
he  were  "  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed."  Frank 
remembered  what  Dick  had  told  him  about  every 
drove  of  wild  horses  having  a  "master,"  and,  as 
he  watched  his  movements,  and  noticed  how  the 
other  horses  shied  at  his  approach,  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  gray  horse  was  the  king.  He 
gazed  at  them  for  some  time,  admiring  their  rapid, 
graceful  movements,  and  thinking  how  fully  the 
gray  would  supply  the  place  of  the  horse  he  had 


THE    KING   OF   THE   DBOVE.  201 

lost,  when  he  noticed  that  the  animals  were  feeding 
directly  toward  him.  Fearful  of  being  discovered, 
he  crawled  back  down  the  swell,  and  rejoined  his 
cousin. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  the  latter,  excit- 
edly. 

"Don't  you  suppose  Dick  could  catch  one  of 
those  fellows  ?  "  inquired  Frank. 

"  Of  course  he  could,"  answered  Archie,  quickly. 
"  Did  n't  he  catch  that  black  mustang  he  told  us 
about — a  horse  that  every  body  had  tried  to  catch, 
and  could  n't  ?  Let 's  go  back,  and  ask  him  to  try." 

The  boys  hastily  remounted,  and  started  for  the 
camp  as  fast  as  .their  horses  could  carry  them. 
Archie,  of  course,  led  the  way,  and,  as  he  dashed 
up  to  the  wagon,  he  threw  himself  from  the  sad- 
dle, exclaiming: 

"  Dick,  there  's  a  drove  of  wild  horses  out  there 
on  the  prairie.  Jump  on  Sam,  and  go  and  catch 
one  for  Frank." 

"That's  the  same  drove  I  seed  day  afore  yes- 
terday," said  old  Bob,  "  an'  that 's  what  I  meant 
when  I  told  Frank  we  'd  put  him  on  hossback  ag'in 
afore  he  war  two  days  older.  Ketch  my  hoss, 
Dick." 


202  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

Dick  did  as  he  was  desired,  and,  by  this  time, 
Frank  had  come  up,  Archie,  in  his  eagerness,  hav- 
ing left  him  far  behind. 

"Did  you  skeer  'em,  youngsters?"  asked  old 
Bob,  as  he  went  to  the  wagon  and  drew  out  two 
rawhide  lassos,  one  of  which  he  handed  to  Dick. 

"No,"  replied  Frank.  "They  didn't  see  us. 
Dick,  catch  the  king — he  's  a  large  iron-gray — the 
prettiest  horse  in  the  drove.  If  I  could  have  him, 
I  would  be  glad  I  lost  Pete." 

"Wai,  now,  that  ar'  will  be  a  hard  thing  to  do, 
youngsters,"  replied  the  trapper,  coiling  up  his 
lasso,  and  hanging  it  on  the  horn  of  his  saddle;  "  a 
mighty  hard  thing  to  do.  Them  ar'  kings  ar'  al- 
lers  the  swiftest  hosses  in  the  drove;  an'  it  aint 
every  ole  buffaler  hunter  that  can  keep  up  with 
rem." 

Archie  was  astonished  to  hear  the  trapper  speak 
so  lightly  of  Sleepy  Sam,  a  horse  that  had  several 
times  proved  himself  to  be  possessed  of  great 
speed ;  but  Dick  hastened  to  explain. 

"  I  aint  sayin'  nothin'  ag'in  your  hoss,  little  one, 
no  more  'n  I  am  ag'in  Bob's.  But  if  you  had 
chased  wild  hosses  as  often  as  I  have,  you  would 
know  that  a  hoss  can  beat  any  thing  in  a  wagon 


THE  KING  OF  THE  DROVE.        203 

train,  an'  yet  have  no  bisness  with  the  king  of  a 
drove.  I  wo  n't  say  that  we  '11  ketch  that  gray  fur 
you,  Frank,  but  we  '11  try  hard,  an'  if  he  is  too  fast 
fur  us,  we  '11  lasso  one  of  the  others,  sartin.  We  '11 
bring  back  somethin'  fur  you  to  ride." 

By  this  time  the  trappers  were  ready  for  the 
start.  Mr.  Winters  and  the  boys  accompanied 
them  to  the  edge  of  the  prairie,  and  there  Bob  and 
Dick  left  them,  after  repeatedly  assuring  Frank 
that  it  was  not  their  intention  to  return  empty- 
handed. 

When  they  had  disappeared,  Mr.  Winters  and 
the  boys  seated  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  for 
nearly  an  hour,  waited  and  listened  for  the  sound 
of  the  pursuit.  Suddenly  a  single  horse  appeared 
•upon  the  summit  of  a  distant  swell,  and  facing 
about,  stood  as  if  regarding  some  object  that  had 
excited  his  curiosity.  Then  came  another,  and 
another,  and  in  a  moment  more  the  entire  drove 
appeared,  running  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  One 
minute  elapsed — two — three — and  then  two  more 
horses  suddenly  arose  over  the  swell,  and  followed 
swiftly  after  the  drove.  The  chase  had  begun  in 
earnest.  The  boys  were  surprised,  and  not  a  little 
discouraged,  to  see  the  trappers  so  far  behind.  But 


204  FRANK  ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

still  they  had  great  confidence  in  them,  and  Frank 
was  already  reconciled  to  the  loss  of  his  horse, 
and  confident  that  he  would  own  another  before 
he  went  to  sleep  that  night.  The  chase  was  tend- 
ing directly  toward  the  mountains,  and  it  pre- 
sented a  sight  the  boys  would  have  been  loth  to 
miss.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  wild  steeds, 
prancing  and  snorting,  and  looking  back  at  the 
strange  objects  that  were  pursuing  them.  Pres- 
ently, among  the  foremost  ones,  the  boys  discov- 
ered the  gray  king.  He  moved  over  the  ground 
as  lightly  as  if  he  had  been  furnished  with  wings, 
and  as  Frank  watched  his  movements,  he  reluc- 
tantly came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  his  endurance 
was  as  great  as  his  speed,  he  must  content  him- 
self with  one  of  the  common  horses  of  the  drove. 
They  continued  to  advance  until  they  came  within 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  willows,  when  they 
seemed,  for  the  first  time,  to  discover  that  their 
retreat  in  that  direction  was  cut  off  by  the  mount- 
ains. This  appeared  to  confuse  and  frighten 
them.  The  foremost  ones  slackened  their  speed, 
but  seeing  their  pursuers  close  behind  them,  the 
drove  suddenly  divided,  part  of  the  horses  turning 
one  way,  and  the  rest  going  the  other.  The  trap 


THE  KING  OF  THE  DROVE.        205 

pers  had  kept  their  eyes  on  the  king,  and,  when 
he  turned,  they  singled  him  out  from  the  others, 
and  followed  him  with  increased  speed.  The  gray 
mustang  made  an  exhibition  of  his  powers  that  was 
truly  surprising ;  but  the  trappers  took  a  "  short 
cut "  on  him,  and  gained  so  rapidly  that  Frank's 
hopes  rose  again.  Sleepy  Sam  was  running  splen- 
didly ;  but,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  old  Bob''s  un- 
gainly, raw-boned  horse,  in  answer  to  a  yell  from 
his  rider,  bounded  past  him.  All  this  happened 
in  much  less  time  than  we  have  taken  to  describe 
it.  The  horses  moved  with  wonderful  rapidity, 
and,  in  a  very  few  moments  after  the  drove  divided, 
the  gray  king  and  the  trappers  were  out  of  sight 
behind  the  swells,  and  all  sounds  of  the  chase  had 
died  away  in  the  distance. 

Mr.  Winters  then  returned  to  the  camp,  while  the 
excited  boys  again  seated  themselves  on  the  ground, 
and  waited  long  and  impatiently  for  the  trapper's 
return.  The  hours  slowly  wore  away,  and,  finally, 
the  sun  went  down,  but  still  no  signs  of  the  horse- 
men. It  soon  began  to  grow  dark,  and  the  boys 
were  obliged  to  return  to  the  wagon.  Frank  pre- 
pared supper  that  evening,  but  their  appetites  must 
have  gone  off  with  the  gray  mustang,  for  they  ate 


206  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

but  little.  They  sat  beside  the  fire  until  midnight, 
straining  their  ears  to  catch  the  first  sounds  of  the 
trapper's  return;  but  nothing  but  the  occasional 
howl  of  a  wolf  broke  the  stillness;  and,  finally, 
growing  tired  of  watching,  they  spread  their  blan- 
kets and  went  to  sleep.  At  the  first  peep  of  day 
they  were  again  stirring,  and,  after  a  hasty  break- 
fast, they  stationed  themselves  in  the  edge  of  the 
willows,  to  await  the  return  of  the  horsemen.  In 
about  two  hours  their  patience  was  rewarded  by 
the  discovery  of  several  objects  moving  along  the 
summit  of  a  distant  swell.  As  they  approached, 
the  boys  recognized  the  trappers,  and  in  half  an 
hour  they  were  within  speaking  distance.  Could 
Frank  believe  his  eyes  ?  Was  Dick  really  riding 
the  gray  king?  It  was  a  horse  that  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  him,  and  Frank  felt  confident  that 
the  animal  he  had  so  much  admired,  was  really  his 
own.  Nor  was  he  deceived ;  for,  as  they  came  up, 
Dick  exclaimed : 

"  Here  we  ar',  youngsters.  We  've  got  him,  sure 
as  shootin'.  Easy  thar,"  he  continued,  as  the  de- 
lighted boys  walked  slowly  around  him,  admiring  his 
fine  points.  "  If  you  know  any  thing  you  '11  keep 
cl'ar  of  his  heels.  He  aint  very  good  natur'd." 


THE  KING  OF  THE  DROVE.        207 

This  was  very  evident ;  for  the  trapper  had 
scarcely  spoken  before  the  mustang  began  to  show 
his  temper.  He  danced  about  in  the  most  lively 
manner ;  first  rearing  up  almost  straight  in  the  air, 
and  then  kicking  with  both  hind  feet.  His  plunges 
were  furious  and  desperate,  and  the  boys  fully  ex- 
pected to  see  the  trapper  unseated.  But  the  lat- 
ter, although  he  had  no  saddle  —  that  being  a 
contrivance  he  despised — and  only  had  his  lasso 
twisted  around  the  gray's  lower  jaw,  for  a  bridle, 
kept  the  animal  completely  under  his  control,  and 
rode  him  into  the  camp  in  triumph. 

"The  critter  led  us  'bout  as  long  an'  as  lively 
a  race  as  we  ever  run,"  said  Dick,  after  the  gray 
had  been  securely  fastened  to  a  tree.  "  An'  it 
war  only  by  accident  that  we  ketched  him.  I 
don't  reckon  I  am  sayin'  too  much  when  I  say 
that  I  never  seed  a  hoss  run  faster  nor  hold  out 
better  nor  he  did — not  even  the  black  mustang. 
"We  went  'round  on  the  other  side  of  the  drove 
afore  we  started  'em,  on  purpose  to  make  'em  run 
t'wards  the  mountains.  That  give  you  a  good 
sight  of  somethin'  you  never  seed  afore,  an'  by  it 
we  gained  on  the  gray  when  he  turned.  Wai,  he 
kept  ahead  of  us  for  ten  or  twelve  miles,  gainin' 


208  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

on  us  all  the  while,  fur  when  he  seed  that  we  war 
arter  him  in  'arnest,  the  way  he  did  climb  over  the 
prairy  war  a  purty  thing  to  look  at — when,  all  to 
onct,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  prairy-dog's  nest. 
The  prairy,  as  far  as  a  feller  could  see,  war  like 
a  honey-comb.  I  'spected  every  minit  that  my 
hoss  would  break  through,  an'  at  last  he  did.  But 
the  gray  broke  in  fust — went  down  clean  to  the 
top  of  his  legs,  an'  could  n't  git  out.  I  war  sartin 
we  had  him,  an'  war  jest  goin'  to  throw  my  lasso, 
when  my  hoss  went  in,  an'  kerchunk  I  went  on  the 
ground.  But  ole  Bob  war  on  hand,  an'  he  ketched 
him.  We  told  you,  Frank,  that  we  'd  put  you  on 
horseback  ag'in,  an'  now  that  we  've  done  it,  I 
do  n't  reckon  you  '11  lose  this  animal  by  campin* 
with  Black  Bill." 


)W  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    209 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


FTER  supper,  the  travelers  seated 
themselves  around  the  fire,  and  the 
trappers  lighted  their  pipes.  After 
smoking  awhile  in  silence,  old  Bob 
said: 

"  As  I  have  told  you  afore,  young- 
sters, it  aint  always  a  easy  job  to 
lasso  the  king  of  a  drove  of  wild  hosses.  The 
runnin'  we  done  to-day  arter  the  gray  war  n't 
nothin'  to  what  we  kalkerlated  to  do  when  we  left 
here ;  an'  if  he  had  n't  got  into  that  prairy-dogs' 
nest,  thar  's  no  knowin'  how  many  miles  he  would 
a  been  from  here  by  this  time.  When  I  war  a 
youngster,  I  went  to  the  Saskatchewan  fur  the 
fust  time,  with  a  party  of  six  trappers — Dick's  ole 
man  war  one  of  'em — an',  being  keerless,  like  all 
young  fellers,  I  soon  made  away  with  one  of  the 
14 


210  FRANK  ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

best  hosses  I  ever  owned.  I  run  him  clean  blind 
arter  a  herd  of  buff'aler.  I  soon  got  another,  how- 
somever,  but  it  war  n't  as  good  a  one  as  I  wanted ; 
an'  I  begun  to  look  around  to  find  a  critter  that 
suited  me.  One  day  "I  come  acrost  a  drove  of 
wild  hosses,  an',  arter  foolin'  round  them  fur  awhile, 
I  diskivered  that  they  war  led  by  a  chestnut-col- 
ored critter — a  purty  feller — an'  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  he  war  just  the  one  I  wanted.  I  had 
never  ketched  a  wild  hoss  then,  an'  I  had  heered 
enough  about  them  to  know  that  them  kings  ar' 
allcrs  the  best  animals  in  the  drove,  an'  that  it 
takes  a  hoss  as  is  a  hoss  to  keep  up  with  one  of 
'em.  But  I  could  throw  the  lasso  tolible  sharp, 
an'  war  jest  'bout  that  age  when  youngsters  think 
they  know  more  'n  any  body  else  on  'arth ;  so  I 
thought  I  could  ketch  him  easy.  Wai,  I  dodged 
round  them  till  I  got  within  'bout  half  a  mile  of 
'em,  and  then  put  out  arter  the  king;  but,  human 
natur,  how  he  did  run!  I  follered  him  'bout 
four  mile,  and  then  turned  t'ward  the  camp,  thinkin' 
that  mebbe  thar  war  a  few  things  I  did  n't  know 
nothin'  at  all  'bout.  Some  days  arterward,  I  seed 
him  ag'in ;  but  he  run  away  from  me  easy,  an'  I 
went  back  to  the  camp  to  be  laughed  at  fur  my 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    211 

trouble.  But  I  knowed  that  I  should  have  plenty 
of  chances  to  ketch  him  afore  we  started  fur  hum — 
we  war  to  stay  thar  till  spring — so  I  said  nothin', 
but  kept  lookin'  round,  an'  every  time  I  seed  the 
chestnut  king,  me  an'  him  had  a  race. 

"I  got  him  at  last — not  in  the  way  I  expected, 
howsomever — an',  to  make  the  story  plain,  I  must 
tell  you  what  happened  'bout  three  year  afore  that. 

"  I  war  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri  River, 
'bout  twenty  mile  from  whar  St.  Joseph  now  stands. 
It  war  thar  my  ole  man  fust  larnt  me  how  to  handle 
a  rifle  an'  ride  a  wild  mustang.  Thar  war  a  fort 
'bout  a  mile  from  our  cabin,  whar  the  ole  man 
allers  went  to  sell  his  furs.  It  war  n't  no  ways 
safe  thar,  in  them  days,  fur  all  that  country  b'longed 
to  the  Injuns,  who  war  n't  very  friendly  t'ward 
white  settlers.  But,  whenever  thar  war  any 
trouble,  we  had  a  safe  place  to  go  to,  an'  onct, 
when  I  war  only  twelve  year  ole,  I  stood  'side  my 
ole  man,  in  the  fort,  an'  helped  drive  off  atween 
four  an'  five  hundred  red-skins.  I  done  so  well 
that  ole  hunters  an'  trappers  slapped  me  on  the 
back,  sayin'  that  I  war  a  'chip  o'  the  ole  block,' 
and  that  I'd  be  a  better  Injun-hunter  nor  my 
father  some  day.  This  pleased  my  ole  man,  an' 


212  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

when  the  Injuns  had  gone,  he  took  me  on  a  trap- 
pin'  expedition  with  him.  Thar  war  four  of  us, 
an'  we  war  gone  all  winter.  I  ketched  my  share 
of  the  furs,  an'  killed  two  grizzly  bars,  which  war 
something  for  a  chap  of  my  years  to  brag  on. 
Wai,  we  reached  hum  in  the  spring,  an',  arter  I 
had  stayed  at  our  cabin  two  or  three  days,  tellin' 
my  mother  big  stories  of  what  I  had  seed,  an' 
what  I  had  done,  the  ole  man  sent  me  down  to 
the  fort  to  trade  off  our  spelter.  I  ought  to  say 
that  on  our  way  hum  we  had  dodged  a  large  party 
of  Injuns  that  war  on  a  scalpin'  expedition.  They 
had  been  off  a  fightin'  with  another  tribe,  an',  hav- 
in'  got  thrashed,  they  war  n't  in  very  good  humor. 
I  war  afraid  they  might  take  it  into  their  heads  to 
visit  the  country  'round  the  fort,  an'  massacree  the 
settlers;  but  the  ole  man  laughed  at  me,  an'  told 
me  to  go  'long  'bout  my  bisness,  an'  sell  them  furs. 
So,  as  I  war  sayin',  I  sot  out  fur  the  fort,  an', 
while  I  war  makin'  a  bargain  with  the  trader,  a 
trapper  came  in  on  a  hoss  that  war  a'most  ready 
to  drop,  an'  said  that  the  Injuns  war  strikin'  fur  the 
fort.  I  do  n't  reckon  that  they  intended  to  come 
afore  night;  but  this  trapper  had  got  away  from 
'em,  an',  knowin'  that  he  would  alarm  the  settlers, 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    213 

the  Injuns  jest  thought  they  would  make  a  rush, 
an'  massacree  men,  women,  an'  children,  afore  they 
could  reach  the  fort. 

"  Wai,  I  did  n't  wait  to  hear  no  more ;  but,  grab- 
bin'  up  my  we'pons,  started  fur  hum  arter  the  old 
folks.  Purty  quick  I  heered  a  firm'  an'  yellin', 
an'  made  up  my  mind  that  them  as  did  n't  reach 
the  fort  in  less  nor  ten  minits  would  be  goners, 
sartin,  fur  the  Injuns  war  comin',  sure  enough.  A 
little  further  on  I  met  my  mother,  who  told  me 
that  the  ole  man  an'  a  few  more  of  the  settlers 
war  fightin'  back  the  Injuns  to  give  the  women  an' 
young  ones  time  to  git  safe  under  kiver.  My 
mother  war  a'most  too  ole  to  walk  so  fur,  so  I 
took  her  on  my  hoss,  and  carried  her  t'wards  the 
fort,  intendin'  that  as  soon  as  I  had  seed  her  safe 
I  would  come  back  arter  the  ole  man.  But  jest 
as  I  reached  the  fort,  I  heered  a  loud  yellin'  an' 
whoopin',  an',  lookin'  back,  I  seed  the  settlers 
comin'  out  of  the  woods,  with  the  Injuns  clost  be- 
hind 'em.  Thar  war,  as  nigh  as  I  could  guess, 
'bout  two  hundred  red-skins,  an'  not  more  'n  twenty 
white  fellers ;  so,  in  course,  thar  war  n't  no  'arthly 
use  to  think  of  fightin'  in  cl'ar  open  ground.  The 
settlers  war  comin'  as  fast  as  their  bosses  could 


214  FRANK    ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

fetch  'em,  an'  the  Injuns  war  dost  arter  'em,  in- 
tendin'  to  kill  or  captur'  'em  all  afore  they  could 
reach  the  fort.  I  seed  the  ole  man  among  the  set- 
tlers, an'  made  up  my  mind  that  he  war  safe,  fui 
he  rid  a  good  hoss,  when,  all  to  onct,  he  dropped  hia 
rifle,  thro  wed  up  his  hands,  an'  fell  from  his  saddle. 
The  settlers  kept  on ;  fur,  in  course,  they  could  n't 
help  him,  an'  the  ole  man  tried  to  foller  'em ;  but 
I  seed  him  pulled  down  an'  tomahawked,  'bout  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  fort,  by  a  young  Injun, 
whom,  from  his  bar's  claws,  an'  other  fixins,  I  tuk 
to  be  a  chief.  My  ole  shootin'  iron  war  good  fur 
that  distance,  so  I  drawed  up  and  blazed  away. 
But  my  hand  trembled,  an'  I  seed  that  Injun  make 
off  with  the  ole  man's  scalp.  That  war  a  long 
time  ago,  youngsters ;  but  I  can  see  that  varlet 
yet,  an'  hear  the  yell  he  give  as  he  shook  the  scalp 
at  us  in  the  fort,  an'  ran  back  into  the  woods.  Of 
them  twenty  men  that  war  in  the  fight,  'bout  a 
dozen  rode  safe  into  the  fort.  The  others  war 
massacreed  afore  our  very  eyes,  an'  we  could  n't 
help  'em. 

"  Wai,  the  Injuns  stayed  round  in  the  edge  of 
the  tim'er  fur  'bout  two  hours,  yellin'  an'  firin'  at 
us ;  but,  knowin'  that  they  could  not  take  the  fort — 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    215 

fur  they  tried  that  twice — they  all  set  up  a  yelp 
an'  put  off,  burnin'  every  thing  as  they  went.  It 
war  a  sad  day  fur  that  settlement.  Nigh  every 
family  war  mournin'  fur  somebody;  but  I  war 
wusser  off  nor  any  of  'em.  My  mother  carried  a 
heap  of  years  on  her  shoulders,  an'  when  she  seed 
the  ole  man  pulled  down  an'  scalped,  it  gave  her  a 
shock  she  never  got  over.  We  buried  them  both 
nigh  the  fort,  an'  arter  stayin'  round  fur  a  week  or 
two,  I  sot  out  with  a  party  of  trappers  fur  our  ole 
huntin'  grounds  on  the  Saskatchewan.  I  never 
forgot  that  young  Injun,  an'  all  I  keered  fur  or 
thought  'bout,  war  to  meet  him.  I  jest  knowed 
that  I  should  find  him  ag'in  some  day,  an'  if  I  had 
met  him  among  his  tribe,  with  hundreds  of  his 
friends  standin'  round,  I  would  have  knowed  him. 
"  Wai,  as  I  war  sayin',  I  sot  out  with  this  party 
of  trappers,  an'  it  war  on  the  Saskatchewan  that  I 
fust  diskivered  this  chestnut  king  that  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  have.  I  follered  him  a'most  all 
winter,  an'  the  more  I  seed  him  run,  the  more  I 
wanted  to  ketch  him.  I  ''tended  to  my  shar'  of 
the  trappin',  but  every  chance  I  got  I  war  arter 
them  bosses.  At  last  they  put  off  somewhar,  an' 
I  never  seed  'em  ag'in.  I  could  n't  think  what  had 


216  FRANK  ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

'coine  on  'em,  but  I  knowed  that  they  had  gone 
clean  out  of  the  country,  an'  that  I  should  have  to 
look  fur  another  hoss,  an'  give  up  all  hopes  of 
ketchin'  the  chestnut. 

"When  spring  opened,  an'  it  come  good  trav- 
elin',  we  held  a  council,  an'  settled  it  that  we 
should  start  fur  the  fort  to  onct.  We  war  in  a 
hurry  to  get  away,  too,  fur  some  of  our  fellers  had 
seen  Injun  sign  'bout  two  miles  from  the  camp  ; 
so,  one  mornin'  we  sot  out  to  gather  up  our  traps. 
I  had  'bout  five  mile  to  go  to  reach  my  trappin' 
ground,  so  I  rode  off  on  a  gallop.  I  went  along 
mighty  keerless,  fur  I  didn't  b'lieve  what  them 
fellers  had  said  'bout  seem'  Injun  sign,  but  I  soon 
larnt  that  ole  trappers  never  get  fooled  'bout  sich 
things.  I  hadn't  gone  more'n  a  mile  from  the 
camp,  when,  whizz!  something  whistled  by  my 
head,  an'  went  chuck  into  a  tree  on  the  other  side 
of  me.  It  war  an  arrer,  an'  afore  I  could  look 
round  to  see  whar  it  come  from,  I  heered  a  yell, 
an'  the  next  minit  a  hoss  popped  out  of  the 
bushes,  an'  came  t' wards  me.  An  Injun  war  on 
his  back,  an'  in  one  hand  he  carried  a  long  spear, 
an'  with  the  other  he  held  his  bow  an'  guided 
his  hoss.  As  soon  as  he  got  cl'ar  of  the  bushes, 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    217 

be  p'inted  that  spear  straight  at  my  breast,  an' 
came  at  me,  full  jump.  I  war  a  youngster  then. 
I  had  n't  been  in  as  many  rough-an'-tumble  fights 
with  wild  Injuns  as  I  have  been  since,  an'  I  would 
have  give  all  the  spelter  I  had  trapped  that  win- 
ter if  I  had  been  safe  in  camp.  These  war  the 
fust  thoughts  that  went  through  my  mind.  But 
arter  I  had  tuk  jest  one  good  look  at  the  Injun 
an'  his  boss,  I  would  n't  have  been  away  from  thar 
fur  nothin'.  The  Injun  war  the  young  chief  that 
had  rubbed  out  my  ole  man,  an'  the  boss  war  the 
chestnut  king — the  very  one  I  had  been  tryin'  to 
ketch  fur  a'most  a  year.  So,  you  see,  I  had  two 
things  to  work  fur.  Fust,  I  had  swore  to  have 
that  Injun's  scalp ;  next,  I  wanted  that  boss ;  an' 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  n't  leave  that  'ar 
place  till  I  had  'em  both.  The  young  chief  war 
so  clost  to  me  that  I  didn't  have  time  to  shoot, 
so  I  sot  still  in  my  saddle,  an'  when  I  seed  the 
p'int  of  the  spear  'bout  two  foot  from  my  breast, 
I  stuck  out  my  rifle  an'  turned  the  we'pon  aside. 
Then,  jest  as  the  Injun  war  goin'  by  me,  I  ketched 
him  by  the  scalp-lock,  quicker  nor  lightnin',  an' 
pulled  him  from  his  boss.  My  own  boss  war  n't 
trained  wuth  a  plug  o'  tobacker,  an',  skeered  by 


218  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

the  fuss,  an'  the  Injuns  yellin',  he  give  a  jump,  an' 
the  fust  thing  I  knowed,  me  an'  the  young  chief 
war  rollin'  on  the  ground  together.  I  've  had  one 
or  two  wild  savages  by  the  top-knot  since  then, 
but  I  never  got  hold  of  a  chap  of  his  size  that  war 
so  strong  an'  wiry.  When  I  fust  ketched  him,  I 
allowed  to  rub  him  out  easy,  fur  I  war  purty  good 
on  a  rough-an' -tumble,  an'  it  war  n't  everybody 
that  could  take  my  measure  on  the  ground ;  but 
when  I  ketched  that  Injun,  I  found  that  I  had  come 
acrost  a  varmint.  We  fell  side  by  side,  I  all  the 
while  hangin'  on  to  his  har;  but  afore  I  could  think 
whar  I  war,  or  what  a  doin',  I  found  the  young 
chief  on  top  of  me  ;  an',  both  his  hands  bein'  free, 
he  commenced  feelin'  fur  his  knife.  In  course  I 
could  n't  allow  that,  so  I  ketched  one  of  his  arms, 
which  he  twisted  out  of  my  grasp,  as  easy  as  though 
I  had  no  strength  at  all.  I  tried  this  two  or  three 
times,  but  findin5  that  I  could  n't  hold  him,  I  fast- 
ened on  his  belt  which  held  the  knife,  an',  with  one 
jerk,  tore  it  loose,  an'  flung  it  over  my  head.  The 
Injun,  findin'  that  his  we'pon  war  gone,  whooped 
an'  yelled  wusser  nor  ever.  We  war  on  even 
terms  now,  fur  my  knife  war  under  me,  an'  neither 
of  us  could  git  at  it.  Then  I  began  tryin'  to  git 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    219 

him  off  me  ;  but  it  war  no  use,  an'  the  Injun  findin' 
that  I  breathed  hard,  held  still  an'  quiet,  hopin' 
that  I  would  soon  tire  myself  out,  an'  then  he 
would  have  no  trouble  in  gittin'  away  from  me. 
But  I  war  layin'  my  plans  all  this  while,  an', 
watchin'  the  Injun  clost,  I  ketched  him  off  his 
guard,  an'  went  to  work  in  'arnest.  By  the  way 
that  chap  kicked  an'  yelled,  I  guess  he  thought  I 
had  only  been  foolin'  with  him  afore,  an'  the  way 
he  did  fight  war  n't  a  funny  thing  fur  me  to  think 
of  jest  then.  But  it  war  no  use.  I  thrashed 
around  till  I  got  hold  of  my  knife,  an',  in  a  minit 
arter  that,  the  young  chief  had  give  his  last  yell. 
Arter  bein'  sartin  that  he  was  done  fur,  I  jumped 
up  an'  run  t' wards  the  mustang,  which  had  stood  a 
little  way  off  watchin'  the  fight,  as  though  he  war 
wonderin'  who  would  come  out  at  the  top  of  the 
heap.  I  ketched  him  easy,  an'  arter  takin'  the 
young  Injun's  top-knot,  I  picked  up  his  we'pons — 
here 's  one  of  'em,  youngsters." 

As  the  trapper  spoke,  he  drew  his  hatchet  from 
his  belt  and  handed  it  to  Archie,  who  sat  nearest 
him.  The  boys  remembered  that  the  first  time 
they  met  old  Bob,  they  had  noticed  that  his  hatchet 
was  different  from  any  they  had  ever  seen.  The 


220  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

blade  was  long  and  narrow,  and  as  keen  as  a  razor. 
The  back  part  of  the  hatchet  was  hollow,  as  was 
also  the  handle,  and  thus  the  weapon  could  be 
made  to  answer  the  purpose  of  a  pipe.  The  han- 
dle was  also  ingeniously  carved,  but  was  so  worn 
by  long  and  constant  usage,  that  the  figures  upon 
it  could  not  be  distinguished.  The  travelers  had 
often  noticed  that  the  old  trapper  was  very  par- 
ticular about  his  "tomahawk,"  as  he  invariably 
called  it ;  but  now  that  they  knew  its  history,  they 
did  not  wonder  that  he  considered  it  worth  pre- 
serving. When  the  boys  had  examined  the  weapon 
to  their  satisfaction,  they  returned  it  to  old  Bob, 
who  continued : 

"Wai,  arter  I  had  tuk  the  young  chiefs  scalp 
an'  we'pons,  (I  had  his  knife,  too,  but  I  lost  that  in 
the  Missouri  River  by  bein'  upset  in  a  canoe,)  I 
jumped  on  my  new  hoss,  and  rode  t' wards  the 
camp,  leavin'  my  ole  mustang  to  go  where  he 
pleased.  When  I  reached  our  fellers,  I  found  'em 
all  busy  packin'  up.  They  had  diskivered  signs  of 
a  large  party  of  Injuns,  an'  they  said  that  the  sooner 
we  got  away  from  thar  the  better  it  would  be  fur 
us.  We  traveled  all  that  night  an'  all  the  next 
day,  an'  got  safe  off.  I  had  the  laugh  on  my  side 


HOW  THE  TRAPPER  GOT  HIS  HORSE.    221 

then,  fur  'em  fellers  all  said  I  could  n't  never  put 
a  bridle  on  the  chestnut  king ;  an'  when  I  told  'em 
my  story  'bout  the  young  chief,  you  ought  to  seed 
them  open  their  eyes.  I  had  n't  been  fooled  'bout 
the  good  pints  of  that  ar'  hoss,  fur  he  war  a  crit- 
ter that  suited  me  exactly.  He  carried  me  safe 
through  many  a  fight  with  grizzly  bars  an'  Injuns; 
but,  finally,  I  lost  him  but  a  few  miles  from  whar 
I  fust  seed  him — on  the  Saskatchewan.  I  never 
trapped  on  that  river  yet  without  losin'  somethin'. 
I  have  lost  two  chums  thar;  throwed  away  four  or 
five  winter's  work — or  jest  the  same  as  throwed  it 
away,  fur  all  my  furs  war  captur'd  by  the  Injuns, 
an'  thar  I  lost  this  hoss." 


222  FEANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


HE  old  trapper  paused  for  a  moment  to 
refill  his  pipe,  and  then  continued — 

"  I  went  out  as  usual  with  a  party  of 
trappers,  fur  in  them  days  it  war  n't  no 
way  safe  fur  a  feller  to  go  thar  alone. 
We  war  a'most  sartin  to  be  chased  by 
the  Injuns,  but  them  as  got  away  with 
a  hul  skin,  allers  went  back  as  soon  as  they 
could  make  up  a  comp'ny,  fur  it  war  thar  the  best 
trappin'  war  to  be  found. 

"If  all  the  red-skins  we  have  rubbed  out  thar 
could  come  to  life  ag'in,  I  reckon  thar  would  be 
lots  of  'em,  an'  if  all  our  poor  fellers  who  have  had 
thar  har  raised  on  the  plains  of  that  same  river, 
could  come  back,  you'd  see  a  heap  of  fine  trap- 
pers. An'  if  me  an'  Dick  could  have  all  the  furs 
we  have  lost  thar,  I  '11  allow  it  would  keep  us  in 


OLD   BOB'S  ADVENTURE.  223 

pipes  an'  tobacker  fur  a  year  or  two.  In  them 
days,  a  feller  could  git  a  good  rifle  fur  a  beaver  or 
otter  skin,  an'  a  fust  rate  boss  fur  two  or  three 
mink  skins.  Our  furs  war  the  only  thing  we  had 
to  depend  on  to  buy  us  a  new  outfit;  so  when  we 
lost  all  our  winter's  work,  it  war  n't  a  thing  to 
laugh  at. 

"Wai,  as  I  war  sayin',  I  went  out  with  this  party 
of  fellers,  an',  as  usual,  not  the  least  bit  of  Injun 
sign  did  we  see  durin'  the  winter.  As  a  gen'ral 
thing  the  red-skins  do  n't  run  'round  much  in  cold  - 
weather — leastways,  they  do  n't  go  fur  from  their 
camps ;  but  by  the  time  the  snow  is  off  the  ground, 
they  ar'"  well-nigh  out  of  grub,  an'  have  to  start 
out  on  their  huntin'  expeditions.  The  Saskatche- 
wan war  a  good  place  fur  them  to  come  to,  fur 
thar  war  plenty  of  game ;  but  the  country  war  n't 
big  enough  for  them  an'  us ;  so  when  they  begun 
comin'  in,  it  war  high  time  fur  us  to  be  goin'  out. 
Thar  war  five  of  us  in  the  party,  an'  as  every  man 
knowed  his  own  bisness,  by  the  time  spring  come 
we  had  as  much  spelter  as  four  bosses  could  pack 
away.  When  the  snow  commenced  goin'  off,  we 
kept  a  good  lookout  fur  Injuns — fur  the  trappin' 
war  so  fine  we  did  n't  want  to  leave  so  long  as  it 


224  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

war  safe  to  stay — an',  one  mornin',  as  I  war  comin* 
in  from  tendin'  to  my  traps,  I  seed  whar  two  In- 
juns had  crossed  the  creek.  That  war  enough  fur 
me,  so  I  put  for  the  camp,  but  did  n't  find  nobody 
thar.  The  fellers  war  all  out  tendin'  to  their  bis- 
ness ;  an',  in  course,  I  war  n't  goin'  away  without 
'em  ;  so  I  packed  up  my  spelter  ready  fur  the  start, 
and  while  waitin'  fur  'em,  kept  sharp  watch  on  all 
sides  fur  Injuns.  'Bout  noon  I  heered  a  hoss 
cornin',  an',  in  a  few  minits,  up  rid  one  of  our  fel- 
lers with  his  huntin'  shirt  all  bloody.  As  soon  as 
I  seed  him,  I  knowed  that  the  game  war  up. 

" '  Bob ! '  says  he,  '  Get  away  from  here  to  onct. 
Bill  Coffee  is  done  fur  (that  war  his  chum),  an'  you 
can  see  how  nigh  they  come  to  rubbin'  me  out  too. 
Some  varlet  sent  an  arrer  clean  through  my  arm. 
Hand  me  my  pack  o'  furs,  and  let 's  be  off  to  onct, 
I  tell  you.' 

"  This  man — Bill  Simons  his  name  war — war  the 
oldest  an'  bravest  man  in  our  comp'ny,  an'  he  war 
our  leader.  Although  I  didn't  like  the  idee  of 
leavin'  them  fellers  out  thar  in  the  woods  with  them 
Injuns — fur  every  one  of  'em  had  done  me  a  kind- 
ness— I  knowed  I  could  n't  do  them  no  good  by 
stayin';  fur,  when  Bill  Simons  deserted  his  owa 


OLD   BOB'S   ADVENTURE.  225 

brother,  thar  war  n't  no  use  of  any  body's  tryin'  to 
help  him.  So  I  handed  Bill  his  furs,  grabbed  up 
my  own,  jumped  on  my  hoss,  an'  we  started.  It 
war  no  light  load  them  hosses  had  to  carry,  fur 
our  spelter  war  a'most  as  heavy  as  we  war.  But 
we  could  n't  think  of  leavin'  'em  behind  without 
makin'  one  effort  to  save  'em,  fur  we  had  worked 
hard  fur  'em,  an'  did  n't  want  'em  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  them  lazy  Injuns.  As  we  rid  along,  we 
made  up  our  minds  that  we  would  stick  together 
as  long  as  we  could,  an'  that  we  would  n't  drop 
our  furs  as  long  as  we  seed  the  least  chance  of 
escapm'  with  'em.  But  if  we  had  knowed  any 
thing,  we  would  have  throwed  away  them  packs  to 
onct,  fur  hangin'  on  to  'em  so  long  was  jest  the 
very  thing  that  got  us  ketched.  We  run  our 
hosses  with  them  heavy  loads,  till  they  war  clean 
done  out;  an'  when  the  Injuns  got  arter  us,  they 
war  a'most  ready  to  drop.  Wai,  as  I  war  sayin', 
we  rid  along  fur  'bout  two  mile,  keepin'  a  good 
lookout  on  all  sides  fur  Injuns,  an',  finally,  we  seed 
'em  behind  us.  Thar  war  'bout  twenty  of  'em,  an' 
as  soon  as  I  sot  eyes  on  'em,  I  somehow  knowed 
that  we  war  ketched. 

u  '  Bob,'  said  Bill,  turnin'  to  me,  *  our  scalps  ar' 
15 


226  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

wuth  more  nor  this  spelter.     It  is  time  to  run  in 
'arnest  now.' 

"He  throwed  down  his  pack,  as  he  spoke,  an' 
then  his  hoss  went  faster.  But  I,  bein'  young  an' 
foolish,  did  n't  like  the  idee  of  losin'  my  winter's 
work ;  so  I  held  on  to  my  pack,  till,  findin'  that 
Bill  war  leavin'  me  behind,  I  throwed  it  away 
Thar  war  our  eight  months'  wages  gone.  We  had 
worked  hard  an'  froze  among  the  snows  of  the 
mountains  fur  nothin'.  But  we  had  n't  gone  fur 
afore  we  diskivered  that  we  had  oughter  throwed 
'em  away  long  ago.  Both  our  hosses  run  as  though 
they  had  traveled  all  day,  an'  it  war  plain  as  bar's 
ears  that  they  could  n't  go  much  further.  Every 
time  we  looked  back  we  seed  that  the  Injuns  war 
gainin'  on  us  fast,  an'  the  way  they  yelled  told  us 
that  they,  too,  knowed  that  they  would  soon  have 
us.  I  looked  t' wards  Bill,  an'  although  I  could 
read  in  his  face  that  he  knowed  we  war  ketched, 
he  did  n't  seem  the  least  bit  skeary.  He  had  been 
in  jest  such  scrapes  afore.  He  had  often  been  a 
pris'ner,  but  he  war  strong  as  a  hoss,  could  run 
like  a  skeered  deer,  an'  had  allers  succeeded  in 
gittin'  away  from  the  Injuns  at  last.  I,  howsom- 
ever,  had  never  been  in  the  hands  of  the  red-skins, 


OLD   BOB'S   ADVENTURE.  227 

but  I  knowed,  from  the  stories  I  had  often  heered, 
that  they  did  n't  treat  a  feller  very  kind,  an'  this 
set  me  to  thinkin'.  The  Injuns  knowed  Bill,  an' 
would  n't  they  know  me  too  ?  The  young  chief 
I  had  rubbed  out  b'longed  to  that  same  tribe,  an' 
would  n't  his  friends  'member  the  hoss,  an'  the 
knife,  an'  tomahawk  I  carried  in  my  belt  ?  I  could 
throw  the  we'pons  away,  an',  arter  thinkin'  a  leetle, 
I  did.  I  unbuckled  my  belt,  an',  jest  as  we  went 
over  a  swell  out  of  sight  of  the  Injuns,  I  dropped 
knife,  tomahawk,  an'  all,  hopin'  that  the  red-skins 
would  never  find  'em;  fur  I  knowed  that  if  they 
thought  I  had  ever  rubbed  out  any  of  the  tribe,  I 
would  ketch  the  wust  kind  of  punishment. 

"Wai,  all  this  while  the  Injuns  had  been  gainin' 
on  us,  fur,  the  further  we  went,  the  slower  our 
hosses  run,  an'  all  the  whippin'  an'  poundin'  we 
could  do,  did  n't  make  them  go  no  faster.  They 
war  well-nigh  tuckered  out.  Purty  quick  I  see 
Bill  turn  in  his  saddle  an'  draw  up  his  ole  shootin' 
iron.  He  war  bound  to  die  game.  I  watched  the 
shot,  an'  could  n't  help  givin'  a  yell  when  I  seed 
one  of  the  varlets  drop  from  his  hoss.  The  In- 
juns had  all  this  while  been  ridin'  clost  together; 
but  findin'  that  we  war  goin  to  begin  shootin',  they 


228  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

scattered,  an'  throwed  themselves  flat  on  their  bosses' 
backs,  so  that  we  could  n't  hit  'em.  But  we  war 
sartin  of  our  game,  no  matter  how  small  a  mark 
we  had  to  shoot  at,  an'  when  I  fired,  I  seed  an  In- 
jun an'  his  boss  come  to  the  ground  together.  By 
this  time,  Bill  war  ready  ag'in,  an'  down  come  an- 
other Injun. 

"If  our  bosses  had  only  been  fresh,  we  could 
have  picked  off  the  last  one  of  'em  afore  they 
could  have  ketched  us.  But  the  varlets  kept 
gainin'  all  the  time,  an'  purty  quick  they  got  nigh 
enough  to  use  their  we'pons,  an'  the  way  the  arrers 
whistled  'bout  our  heads  war  n't  pleasant,  now  I 
tell  you.  But  we  kept  shootin'  at  'em  as  fast  as 
we  could  load  up,  bringin'  down  an  Injun  at  every 
pop — till  some  chap  sent  his  arrer  into  my  boss's 
side — an'  the  next  minit  I  war  sprawlin'  on  the 
ground.  Bill  kept  on,  but  he  had  n't  gone  fur 
afore  he  got  an  arrer  through  his  neck,  which 
brought  him  from  his  saddle,  dead.  I  jest  seed 
this  as  I  war  tryin'  to  get  up;  fur  my  boss  had 
fell  on  my  leg,  an'  war  holdin'  me  down.  Jest 
arter  Bill  fell,  the  Injuns  come  up  an'  I  war  a 
pris'ner.  I  couldn't  tell  you  how  I  felt,  young- 
sters. I  bad  heered  enough  to  know  that  much 


OLD   BOB'S   ADVENTURE.  229 

depended  on  my  showin'  a  bold  front ;  but  it  takes 
a  man  of  mighty  strong  nerve  to  look  a  dozen 
yellin',  scowlin'  Injuns  in  the  face,  without  onct 
flinchin'.  Howsomever,  I  kept  a  leetle  courage 
'bout  me,  I  guess,  fur  when  one  chap  jumped,  an' 
drawed  his  bow  with  an  arrer  p'inted  straight  at 
my  breast,  I  looked  him  in  the  eye  without  winkin'; 
an'  when  another  ketched  me  by  the  har,  an'  lifted 
his  tomahawk  as  if  he  had  a  good  notion  to  make 
an  end  of  me  to  onct,  I  stood  as  still  an'  quiet  as 
though  I  did  n't  see  him.  Arter  this  had  been 
goin'  on  fur  a  while,  the  Injuns  seemed  to  grow 
tired  of  it,  fur  my  hands  war  bound  behind  my 
back,  an'  one  feller  fetched  up  Bill's  hoss,  an'  war 
goin'  to  put  me  on  him,  when  the  critter,  bein' 
clean  tired  out,  give  a  grunt  an'  lay  right  down  on 
the  prairy.  The  Injuns  seemed  to  think  the  hoss 
war  no  'count,  fur  they  turned  him  loose,  an'  I  war 
lifted  on  to  a  mustang  behind  one  of  the  savages. 
I  did  n't  think  much  of  this  at  the  time,  but  I  arter- 
ward  had  reason  to  be  glad  that  the  varlets  had 
left  Bill's  hoss  out  thar  on  the  prairy. 

"It  war  'bout  five  mile  to  the  place  whar  the 
Injuns  had  made  their  camp,  an'  while  on  the  way 
thar  I  war  n't  bothered  at  all,  fur  they  seed  that  I 


230  FRANK    ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

war  n't  skeered  easy.  When  we  reached  the  vil- 
lage— which  must  have  had  nigh  two  hundred  In- 
juns in  it — I  found  that  I  war  n't  the  only  pris'ner, 
fur  thar  war  Pete  Simons,  Bill's  brother,  tied  to  a 
post  in  the  middle  of  the  camp,  an'  he  war  sur- 
rounded by  men,  women,  and  young  uns,  who  war 
beatin'  him  with  sticks,  an'  tormentin'  him  every  way 
they  knowed  how;  but  findin'  that  they  couldn't 
m:ike  Pete  show  fear — fur  that  war  something  he 
didn't  have  in  him — they  left  him,  when  I  came 
up,  and  pitched  into  me.  I  didn't  mind  'em  much, 
howsomever,  although  I  did  wince  jest  the  least 
bit  when  one  feller  struck  at  me  with  his  toma- 
hawk, and  jest  grazed  my  face;  but  they  didn't 
see  it;  an'  purty  quick  one  big  feller  ketched  me 
by  the  har,  an',  arter  draggin'  me  up  to  the  post, 
tied  me  with  my  back  to  Pete's.  It  then  wanted 
'bout  three  hours  of  sundown,  an'  the  Injuns,  ar- 
ter holdin'  a  leetle  council,  made  up  their  minda 
to  have  some  fun ;  so  they  untied  me  an'  Pete,  an' 
led  us  out  on  the  prairy  'bout  three  or  four  hun- 
dred yards,  an'  thar  left  us.  We  looked  back  an' 
seed  the  Injuns  all  drawed  up  in  a  line,  with  their 
we'pons  in  their  hands,  an'  knowed  that  the  varlets 
had  give  us  a  chance  to  run  for  our  lives.  In  course 


231 

they  did  n't  mean  fur  us  to  git  away,  but  they  wanted 
the  fun  of  seem'  us  run,  never  dreamin'  but  some 
of  their  fleet  braves  would  ketch  us  afore  we  had 
gone  fur.  I  never  looked  fur  'em  to  give  us  sich 
a  chance  fur  life  as  that,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  learn  'em  to  think  twice  afore  they 
give  a  white  trapper  the  free  use  of  his  legs  ag'in. 
I  a'most  knowed  I  war  safe,  but  I  felt  shaky  'bout 
Peter,  fur  the  Injuns  had  shot  him  with  two  arrers 
afore  they  ketched  him,  an'  he  war  hurt  bad.  I 
did  n't  think  he  could  run  far — nor  he  did  n't,  nei- 
ther; fur  when  we  shook  hands  an'  wished  each 
other  good  luck,  he  said  to  me,  '  Bob,  I  wish  I  had 
my  rifle.'  He  meant  by  that,  if  he  had  his  ole 
shootin'  iron  in  his  hands,  he  wouldn't  die  alone; 
he  would  have  fit  the  Injuns  as  long  as  he  could 
stand.  Wai,  as  I  war  sayin',  we  shook  hands  an' 
bid  each  other  good-by,  an'  jest  then  I  heered  a 
yell.  I  jumped  like  a  flash  of  lightnin',  an'  made 
t'wards  a  little  belt  of  tim'er  which  I  could  see, 
'bout  two  miles  acrost  the  prairy.  I  war  runnin' 
fur  my  life,  an'  I  reckon  I  made  the  best  time  I 
knowed  how.  I  soon  left  poor  Pete  behind,  an', 
when  I  had  gone  about  a  mile,  I  heered  a  yell,  that 
told  me  as  plain  as  words,  that  he  had  been  ketched. 


232  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

I  never  stopped  to  look  back,  but  kept  straight  ahead, 
an'  in  a  few  minits  more  I  war  in  the  woods.  The 
yellin'  of  the  Injuns  had  been  growin'  louder  an' 
louder,  so  I  knowed  that  they  were  gainin'  on  me, 
an'  that  if  I  kept  on  they  would  soon  ketch  me ;  so, 
as  soon  as  I  found  myself  fair  in  the  tim'er,  I  turned 
square  off  to  the  right,  an'  takin'  to  every  log  I  could 
find,  so  as  to  leave  as  leetle  trail  as  possible  fur  them 
to  foller,  I  ran  'bout  a  hundred  yards  further,  an* 
then  dived  into  a  thick  clump  of  bushes,  whar  I  hid 
myself  in  the  leaves  an'  brush.  I  had  kinder  both- 
ered the  varlets,  for  a  leetle  while  arter,  they  came  in- 
to the  woods,  an'  went  on  through,  as  if  they  thought 
I  had  kept  on  t'wards  the  prairy.  But  I  knowed 
that  they  would  n't  be  fooled  long ;  an'  when  I  heered 
by  their  yellin'  that  they  had  left  the  woods,  I  crawled 
out  of  the  bushes  to  look  up  a  better  hidin'-place. 
Arter  listenin'  an'  lookin',  to  be  sartin  that  thar 
war  no  Injuns  'round,  I  ag'in  broke  into  a  run,  an' 
finally  found  a  holler  log  at  the  bottom  of  a  gully, 
whar  I  thought  I  had  better  stop ;  so  I  crawled  into 
the  log,  an'  jest  then  I  heered  the  Injuns  coming 
back.  They  knowed  that  I  war  hid  somewhar  in 
the  tim'er,  an'  they  all  scattered  through  the  woods, 


OLD  BOB'S   ADVENTURE.  233 

hopin'  to  find  me  afore  it  'come  dark — yellin'  all 
the  while,  as  though  they  didn't  feel  very  good-na- 
tured 'bout  bein'  fooled  that  ar'  way.  I  knowed  that 
they  couldn't  foller  my  trail  easy,  but  thar  war  so 
many  of 'em,  that  I  war  afraid  somebody  might  hap- 
pen to  stumble  on  my  hidin' -place.  But  they  did  n't ; 
an'  arter  awhile  it  'come  dark,  an'  the  varlets  had 
to  give  up  the  search.  I  waited  till  every  thing  war 
still,  an'  then  crawled  out  of  my  log,  and  struck  fur 
the  prairy.  I  war  n't  green  enough  to  b'lieve  that 
they  war  all  gone,  fur  I  knowed  that  thar  war  In- 
juns layin'  'round  in  them  woods  watchin'  an'  wait- 
in'  fur  me.  In  course  I  didn't  want  to  come  acrost 
none  of  'em,  fur  I  had  no  we'pon,  and  I  would  have 
been  ketched  sartin ;  so  I  war  mighty  keerful ;  an' 
I  b'lieve  I  war  two  hours  goin'  through  the  hundred 
yards  of  woods  that  lay  atween  me  an'  the  prairy. 
When  I  reached  the  edge  of  the  tim'er,  I  broke 
into  a  run.  If  thar  war  any  Injuns  'round,  they 
couldn't  see  me,  fur  the  night  war  dark;  an'  they 
couldn't  hear  me,  neither,  fur  my  moccasins  didn't 
make  no  noise  in  the  grass.  I  kept  on,  at  a  steady 
gait,  fur  'bout  two  hours,  an'  finally  reached  the  place 
whar  I  war  captur'd.  Arter  a  leetle  lookin'  and 


234  FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

feelin',  I  found  my  belt  and  we'pons.    I  felt  a  heap 
better  then,  fur  I  had  something  to  defend  myself 
with ;  but  still  I  did  n't  feel  like  laughing  fur  I  war 
afoot,  an',  havin'  no  rifle,  I  couldn't  think  how  I  war 
to  git  grub  to  eat.      But  I  war  better  off  nor  while 
I  war  a  pris'ner  'mong  the  Injuns ;  so  I  knowed  I 
hadn't  oughter  complain.      Arter  takin'  one  look 
at  poor  Bill,  whom  the  Injuns,  arter  havin'  scalped, 
had  left  whar  he  had  fallen,  an'  promisin'  that  ev- 
ery time  I  seed  a  Blackfoot  Injun  I  would  think  of 
him,  I  ag'in  sot  out.     Arter  I  had  gone  'bout  half 
a  mile  further,  the  moon  riz,  an',  as  I  war  running 
along,  I  seed  something  ahead  of  me.      I  stopped 
to  onct,  fur  I  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  a  Injun; 
but  another  look  showed  me  it  war  a  boss.    He  war 
feedin'  when  he  fust  seed  me,  but,  when  he  heered 
me  comin',  he  looked  up,  an'  give  a  leetle  whinny 
that  made  me  feel  like  hollerin'.      It  war  Bill  Si- 
mons's  hoss.    How  glad  I  war  to  see  him !    An'  he 
must  a  been  glad  to  see  me,  too,  fur  he  let  me  ketch 
him ;  an'  when  I  got  on  his  back,  I  did  n't  keer,  jest 
then,  fur  all  the  Injuns  on  the  plains.     The  critter 
had  had  a  good  rest,  an',  when  I  spoke  to  him,  he 
started  off  just  as  lively  as  though  he  war  good  fur 


OLD   BOB'S   ADVENTURE.  235 

a  hundred  mile.  Wai,  I  rid  all  that  night,  an',  'arly 
the  next  mornin',  I  found  myself  nigh  a  patch  of 
woods  whar  we  allers  made  our  camp  when  goin' 
to  an'  from  the  Saskatchewan,  an'  I  thought  I  would 
stop  thar  and  git  a  leetle  rest,  fur  I  war  tired  an' 
hungry.  So  I  rid  through  the  woods,  an',  when  I 
come  in  sight  o'  our  ole  campin'  ground,  I  seed 
something  that  made  me  feel  like  hollerin'  ag'in; 
an'  I  did  holler ;  fur  thar  war  two  of  our  comp'ny — 
the  only  ones  that  'scaped  'sides  me — jest  gettin' 
ready  to  start  off.  They  stopped  when  they  seed 
me — an',  youngsters,  you  may  be  sartin  that  we 
war  glad  to  meet  each  other  ag'in.  One  of  'em 
war  Bill  Coffee,  who  I  thought  war  dead.  He  war 
bad  hurt,  but  he  got  off  without  losin'  his  har,  an' 
he  felt  mighty  jolly  over  it.  Arter  they  had  told 
me  'bout  their  fight  with  the  Injuns — an'  they  jest 
did  get  away,  an'  that  war  all — I  told  'em  'bout  Bill 
Simons  bein'  killed,  and  how  me  an'  Pete  had  run 
a  race  with  the  varlets,  an'  we  all  swore  that  the 
Blackfeet  wouldn't  make  nothin'  by  rubbin'  out 
them  two  fellers.  I  stayed  thar  long  enough  to 
rest  a  little  an'  eat  a  piece  of  meat  that  one  of  'em 
give  me,  an'  then  we  all  sot  out  fur  the  fort,  which 


236  FRANK   ON    THE   PRAIRIE. 

we  reached  all  right.  We  laid  'round  fur  'bout  a 
month,  an'  then — would  you  b'lieve  it? — we  three 
fellers  made  up  another  comp'ny,  an'  put  fur  the 
Saskatchewan  ag'in.  None  of  us  ever  forgot  our 
promise,  an'  every  time  we  drawed  a  bead  on  a 
Blackfoot,  we  thought  of  Bill  an'  Pete  Simons." 


HOMEWAKD   BOUND.  237 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


.HE  travelers  remained  at  the  "  ole 
bar's  hole"  three  weeks,  instead  of 
'one,  as  they  had  at  first  intended. 
Game  of  every  description  was  plenty ; 
there  were  no  Indians  to  trouble  them ; 
in  short,  they  were  leading  a  life  that 
exactly  suited  the  boys,  who  were  in  no 
hurry  to  resume  their  journey,  which  was  becom- 
ing tiresome  to  them.  Besides,  their  supply  of 
bacon  was  exhausted,  and  the  trappers  undertook 
to  replenish  the  commissary.  This  they  did  by 
" jerking"  the  meat  of  the  buffaloes  that  had  been 
killed  during  the  hunt  in  which  Frank  had  taken 
his  involuntary  ride.  They  cut  the  meat  into  thin 
strips,  and  hung  it  upon  frames  to  dry — the  sun 
and  the  pure  atmosphere  of  the  prairie  did  the 
rest.  The  meat  was  thoroughly  cured  without 


238  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

smoke  or  salt,  and  although  the  boys  did  not  rel- 
ish it  as  well  as  the  bacon,  they  still  found  it  very 
palatable.  To  Dick,  it  was  like  meeting  with  an 
old  friend.  He  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
jerked  Buffalo  meat,  and  he  ate  great  quantities 
of  it,  to  the  exclusion  of  corn-bread  and  coffee,  of 
which. he  had  become  very  fond. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  gray  mustang  demanded 
a  large  share  of  their  attention.  He  was  very  un- 
ruly, extremely  vicious,  and  attempted  to  use  his 
teeth  or  heels  upon  every  thing  that  approached 
him.  But  these  actions  did  not  in  the  least  intimi- 
date Dick,  who  was  a  most  excellent  horseman; 
and,  after  several  rides  over  the  prairie,  coupled 
with  the  most  severe  treatment,  he  succeeded  in 
subduing  the  gray,  which  was  turned  over  to  his 
young  master,  with  the  assurance  that  he  was  "  a 
hoss  as  no  sich  ole  buffaler  hunter  as  Sleepy  Sam 
could  run  away  from." 

This  declaration  was  instantly  resisted  by  Ar- 
chie, who  forthwith  challenged  Frank  to  a  race ; 
but  it  was  not  until  the  latter  had  fully  satisfied 
himself  that  the  mustang  was  completely  conquered 
that  he  accepted  the  proposition.  When  he  had 
been  robbed  of  his  horse,  Frank  had  lost  some- 


HOMEWARD   BOUND.  239 

thing  that  could  not  again  be  supplied,  and  that 
was  his  saddle.  As  for  a  bridle,  he  soon  found 
that  the  trapper's  lasso  twisted  about  the  gray's 
lower  jaw,  answered  admirably ;  but  it  was  a  long 
time  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  believe  that 
his  blanket  could  be  made  to  do  duty  both  as  sad- 
dle and  bed.  After  a  week's  practice,  however, 
he  began  to  feel  more  at  home  on  his  new  horse ; 
and,  one  morning,  as  he  rode  out  with  his  cousin, 
he  informed  him  that  he  was  prepared  for  the  race. 
Archie,  always  ready,  at  once  put  Sleepy  Sam  at 
the  top  of  his  speed ;  but  the  gray  king  had  lost 
none  of  his  lightness  of  foot  during  his  captivity, 
and  before  they  had  gone  fifty  yards  he  had  car- 
ried Frank  far  ahead.  Race  after  race  came  off 
that  day,  and  each  time  Sleepy  Sam  was  sadly 
beaten.  Archie  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  the 
gray's  superiority,  and  declared  that  he  "wouldn't 
mind  camping  with  Black  Bill  himself  if  he  could 
be  certain  of  no  worse  treatment  than  Frank  had 
eceived,  and  could  gain  as  good  a  horse  as  the 
g  ^ay  king  by  the  operation.' 

"The  mustang  having  been  thoroughly  broken  to 
sad\  Te,  and  the  travelers  supplied  with  meat,  there 
was  i  thing  now  to  detain  them  at  the  cave.  So, 


240  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

one  morning  Dick  harnessed  his  mules,  and  they 
prepared  to  resume  their  journey.  Before  start- 
ing, however,  the  boys  explored  the  "ole  bar's 
hole"  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  as  long  as  they 
remained  in  sight,  they  turned  to  take  a  long,  lin- 
gering look  at  the  place  which  was  now  associated 
with  many  exciting  adventures. 

Instead  of  traveling  back  to  the  road  the  train 
had  taken,  the  trapper  led  them  southward,  and, 
after  a  long  and  tedious  journey  through  the 
mountains,  they  reached  Bridger's  Pass,  and  a  few 
days  afterward  they  arrived  at  a  fort  of  the  same 
name.  They  camped  there  one  night,  and  then 
turned  their  faces  toward  Salt  Lake  City,  which 
they  reached  in  safety.  Mr.  Winters  led  the  way 
to  a  hotel,  where  an  excellent  dinner  was  served  up 
for  them.  After  passing  more  than  two  months  in 
the  saddle,  subsisting  upon  the  plainest  food,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  the  boys  were  glad  to  find  them- 
selves seated  at  a  table  once  more.  Fresh  meat 
and  vegetables  of  all  kinds  disappeared  before  their 
attacks,  and  they  finally  stopped  because  they  were 
ashamed  to  eat  more.  After  dinner,  being  informed 
by  their  uncle  that  they  would  remain  in  the  city 
until  the  following  day,  in  order  to  give  the  trappers 


HOMEWARD   BOUND.  241 

time  to  lay  in  a  fresh  supply  of  provisions,  the  boys 
started  out  to  see  the  sights.  Evidences  of  pros- 
perity met  their  eyes  on  every  side.  Some  of  the 
buildings  were  elegant,  the  streets  broad  and  clean, 
and  filled  with  vehicles.  Wagon  trains  were  con- 
stantly coming  and  going,  and  the  principal  busi- 
ness seemed  to  be  to  supply  these  with  provisions. 
Archie  thought  it  must  be  a  splendid  place  to  live 
in,  so  near  good  hunting  grounds;  but  he  could 
not  help  glancing  pityingly  toward  a  youth  about 
his  own  age,  whom  they  met  on  the  street,  and  won- 
dering "how  many  mothers  that  poor  fellow  had  to 
boss  him  around." 

When  it  began  to  grow  dark  they  returned  to 
their  hotel,  where  they  retired  early.  They  thought 
they  could  enjoy  a  good  night's  rest  in  a  comfort- 
able bed,  but  their  expectations  were  not  realized. 
They  could  not  go  to  sleep.  First,  they  thought 
the  quilts  were  too  heavy,  and  they  kicked  them 
off  on  the  floor.  Then  the  mattress  was  too  soft — 
they  could  scarcely  breathe — and  after  rolling  and 
tossing  for  half  the  night,  they  spread  the  quilts 
on  the  floor,  and  there  slept  soundly  until  morning. 

Their  journey  through  Utah  and  Nevada  into 
California,  was  accomplished  without  incident 
16 


242  FRANK   ON   THE   PRAIRIE. 

worthy  of  note;  and,  in  due  time,  they  arrived  at 
Sacramento.  Here  it  was  that  their,  uncle  had 
been  located  previous  to  his  return  to  Lawrence, 
and  consequently  they  were  at  their  journey's  end. 
As  soon  as  Mr.  Winters  had  settled  up  his  busi- 
ness, they  would  return  to  the  States  by  steamer. 
This  was  communicated  to  the  trappers  the  morn- 
ing after  their  arrival,  and  it  was  an  arrangement 
at  which  Dick  was  both  surprised  and  grieved. 
After  a  short  consultation  with  old  Bob,  they  both 
approached  and  announced  their  determination  of 
returning  to  the  mountains  immediately. 

"We've  got  to  go  sometime,"  said  Dick,  "that 
ar'  sartin ;  an'  the  longer  we  stay,  the  harder  it 
'comes  to  leave." 

Mr.  Winters  then  broached  the  subject  of  pay- 
ment for  their  services,  to  which  the  trappers  would 
not  listen,  neither  would  they  accept  the  offer  of 
the  horses,  mules,  and  wagon,  Dick  declaring  that 
by  acting  as  their  guide  he  had  found  a  "  chum " 
in  the  oldest  and  best  trapper  on  the  prairie,  and 
that  was  worth  more  to  him  than  any  thing  else. 
Money  he  did  not  need ;  and  as  for  the  mules  and 
wagon>  he  had  no  use  for  them.  And  evidently 
wishing  to  bring  the  interview  to  a  close,  as  soon 


HOMEWARD   BOUND.  243 

as  possible,  he  hastily  shook  Mr.  Winters  by  the 
hand,  and  bade  him  good-by. 

His  parting  from  the  boys  was  not  so  easily  ac- 
complished. He  extended  a  hand  to  each,  and, 
for  some  moments,  stood  looking  earnestly  at 
them,  without  speaking.  At  length,  he  said : 

"  I  do  n't  like  to  say  good-by  to  you,  young- 
sters. I  had  hoped  that  I  should  guide  you  back 
to  the  States.  But  you  know  your  own  bisness 
better  nor  I  do,  so  I  ought  n't  to  grumble.  I  wish 
you  could  allers  stay  with  me.  I'd  take  mighty 
good  keer  of  you.  But  our  trails  lay  in  different 
directions.  You  go  back  to  your  friends,  an'  me 
an'  ole  Bob  go  to  the  mountains,  to  hunt,  an'  trap, 
an'  fight  Injuns,  as  we  have  done  fur  many  a  long 
year." 

"You'll  need  a  horse  then,  Dick,"  interrupted 
Frank.  "You  certainly  will  not  refuse  the  gray 
king  !  Take  him,  and  keep  him  to  remember  us  by." 

"  Youngsters,"  said  the  trapper,  struggling  hard 
to  keep  back  something  that  appeared  to  be  rising 
in  his  throat,  "it  do  n't  need  no  hoss  to  make  me 
'member  you.  But  I  '11  take  him,  howsomever,  as 
a  present  from  you,  an'  every  time  I  look  at  him, 
I  shall  think  of  you  away  off  in  the  States." 


244  FRANK   ON  THE   PRAIRIE. 

"And,  Dick,"  chimed  in  Archie,  "if  you  ever 
see  Black  Bill,  do  n't  forget  that  he  stole  my 
relics." 

"I  won't  forget  it,  little  'un.  An*  now,  good- 
by.  It  aint  no  ways  likely  that  we  shall  ever  see 
each  other  ag'in;  but  I  hope  that  when  you  git 
hum,  an'  tell  your  friends  of  your  trip  acrost  the 
plains,  that  you  will  give  one  thought  to  your  ole 
friend  Dick  Lewis,  the  trapper.  Good-by,  young- 
sters." 

The  guide  wrung  their  hands,  and  then  gave  way 
to  old  Bob,  who  also  seemed  to  regret  that  the 
parting  time  had  come ;  and  when  the  farewells  had 
all  been  said,  the  trappers  mounted  their  horses, 
rode  rapidly  down  the  street  and  disappeared. 

It  was  not  at  all  probable  that  the  boys  would 
ever  forget  those  rough,  but  kind-hearted  men — 
for  the  guides  held  a  prominent  place  in  their  affec- 
tions. Although  they  were  in  a  busy  city,  sur- 
rounded by  friends — for  Mr.  Winters  had  a  large 
circle  of  acquaintances  in  Sacramento — they  were 
lonesome  now  that  the  trappers  had  gone,  and  their 
thoughts  often  wandered  off  in  search  of  those  two 
men,  now  on  their  lonely  journey  to  the  mountains. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  Mr.  Winters  had  settled 


HOMEWARD   BOUND.  245 

up  his  business,  and,  one  morning,  they  took  the 
stage  for  JBenicia;  thence  they  went  by  boat  to 
San  Francisco.  Here  they  took  passage  on  board 
a  mail  steamer  to  Panama,  thence  by  rail  to  As- 
pinwall,  where  they  found  another  steamer,  that 
took  them  safely  to  Boston.  At  Portland,  which 
they  reached  in  due  time,  they  remained  a  week, 
and  then  all  set  out  for  Lawrence.  Frank  had 
written  to  his  mother  when  to  expect  them,  and 
they  found  all  the  inmates  of  the  cottage  on  the 
watch.  As  the  carriage  that  brought  them  from 
the  wharf  drew  up  before  the  gate,  Brave  an- 
nounced the  fact  by  a  joyful  bark,  that  brought 
Mrs.  Nelson  and  Julia  to  the  door,  where  the 
travelers  were  warmly  received.  Besides  strong 
frames,  sunburnt  faces,  and  good  appetites,  the 
boys  brought  back  from  the  plains  a  fund  of  stories 
that  was  not  exhausted  that  evening,  nor  the  next, 
and  even  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  they  still  had 
something  to  talk  about.  The  skins  of  the  bears 
were  stuffed  and  mounted,  side  by  side,  in  the 
museum,  together  with  those  of  several  prairie 
wolves,  big-horns,  and  that  of  the  antelope  the 
boys  had  killed  the  morning  they  were  lost  on  the 
prairie.  Archie  never  grew  tired  of  relating  the 


FRANK   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

particulars  of  his  adventure  with  the  grizzly,  and 
when  he  told  of  their  being  lost,  he  never  forgot 
to  mention  how  Sleepy  Sam  had  "landed  him  in 
the  water." 

And  now  that  the  young  hunters  were  among 
their  friends  again,  did  they  ever  "give  one 
thought"  to  their  guide?  They  often  talked  of 
him — his  stories  were  still  fresh  in  their  memories, 
and  his  many  acts  of  kindness  could  never  be 
forgotten.  Whenever  they  recounted  their  ad- 
ventures, or  related  the  little  history  of  the  new 
objects  they  had  mounted  in  their  museum,  they 
always  spoke  of  him,  and  many  an  earnest  wish 
went  out  from  them  for  the  welfare  of  DICK  LEWIS, 
THE  TRAPPER.  In  their  subsequent  career  in  the 
gun-boat  service,  they  often  related  incidents  of 
his  life  to  their  messmates. 


THE   END. 


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The  Forest  Exiles. 
The  Boy  Hunters. 
The  Young  Yagers. 
The  Cliff  Climbers. 


OLIVER  OPTIC'S  LIBRARY.    6  vols.    Illustrated 


Rich  and  Humble. 
In  School  and  Out. 
W  atch  and  Wait. 


Work  and  Win. 
Hope  and  Have. 
Haste  and  Waste. 


750 


SOLD  BY  R.  W.  CARROLL  &  CO. 


PEICB 

WALTER'S  TOUR  IN  THE  EAST.    6  vols.    Illustrated....  «6  40 

Walter  in  Damascus. 
Walter  in  Constantinople. 


Walter  in  Egypt. 
Walter  in  Jerusalem. 


Walter  in  Samaria. 


Walter  in  Athens. 


ABBOTT'S  AMERICAN  HISTORY.    8  vols.    Illustrated.. 

The  Wars  of  the  Colonies. 
Bevolts  of  the  Colonies. 
War  of  the  Bevolution. 
Washington. 


Aboriginal  America. 
Discovery  of  America. 
Tke  Southern  Colonies. 
The  Northern  Colonies. 


1000 


DOG  CRUSOE  SERIES.    6  vols. 
Gorilla  Hunters. 
Bound  the  World. 
Dog  Crusoe. 


Illustrated 9  00 

John  Chinaman. 
Bear  Hunters. 
Audubon  the  Naturalist. 


FAMOUS  GENERALS.    6  vols. 
Life  of  General  Washington. 
Life  of  General  Taylor. 
Life  of  General  Jackson. 


Illustrated 7  50 

Life  of  General  Lafayette.* 
Life  of  General  Marion. 
Life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 


LITTLE  PRUDY  STORIES.    6  vols.    Illustrated 450 

Little  Prudy.  Little  Prudy's  Cousin  Grace. 

Little  Prudy's  Sister  Snsie.  Little  Prudy's  Story-book. 

Little  Prudy's  Captain  Horace.  Little  Prudy's  Dotty  Dimple. 


LITTLE  AGNES'  LIBRARY. 
Little  Agnes. 
Trying  to  be  Useful. 


4  vols.    Illustrated 

I '11  Try. 

Art  and  Artlessness. 


THE  ELMWOOD  SERIES. 
Mill  Agent. 
Horace  Welford. 


4  vols.    Illustrated 

Out  of  Prison. 
The  Huntingdons. 


...    600 


5  00 


AUNT  HATTIE'S  LIBRARY.    6  vols. 

Apple  Boys. 
Chest  of  Tools. 
Factory  Boy. 


Illustrated 3  00 

Frankie's  Dog  Tony. 
Golden  Bulo. 
Lying  Jim. 


THE  BROOKSIDE  SERIES. 

The  Hole  in  the  Pocket. 
Lost  but  Found. 

THE  ARLINGTON  SERIES. 
One-armed  Hugh. 
Boys  at  Dr.  Murray's. 


4  vols.    Illustrated 5  00 

Stopping  the  Leak. 
Fashion  and  Folly. 

4  vols.    Illustrated 6  00 

Wheel  of  Fortune. 
The  Deserted  Mill. 


JUVENILE  WORKS. 


PEICB 

MARY  GAY;  OR,  WORK  FOR  GIRLS.    4  vols.    Illus $3  40 

Work  for  Winter.  Work  for  Summer.    ' 

Work  for  Spring.  Work  for  Autumn. 

JOHN  GAY;  OR,  WORK  FOR  BOYS.    4  vols.    Illus 3  40 

Work  for  Winter.  Work  for  Summer.' 

Work  for  Spring.  Work  for  Autumn. 

GOOD  LITTLE  HEARTS.    4  vols.    Illustrated 3  40 

Metropolitan  Fair.  Nellie  Rivers, 

Bird-nest  Stories.  Stories  in  the  Wood. 

NEW  TEMPERANCE  TALES.    4  vols.    Illustrated 3  75 

Rachel's  Noble  Experience.  The  Hard  Master. 

The  Red  Bridge.  Echo  Bank. 

BALLANTYNE'S  ENTERTAINING  LIBRARY.    4  vols...    6  00 

.  The  Young  Fur  Trader.  Ungava. 

The  Coral  Island.  Martin  Rattle. 

ELLEN  MONTGOMERY'S  BOOKSHELF.    5  vols.    Illus...    6  00 

Caspar  and  his  Friends.  Sybil  and  Chryssa. 

Karl  Krinken.  Hard  Maple. 

Mr.  Rutherford's  Children 

ROSA  ABBOTT  STORIES.    3  vols.    Illustrated 300 

Jack  of  all  Trades.  Tommy  Hickup. 

Alexis  the  Runaway. 

BTARRY  FLAG  SERIES.    3  vols.    Illustrated 3  75 

The  Starry  Flag.  Seek  and  Find. 

Breaking  Away. 

THE  BOARDMAN  LIBRARY.    4  vols.    Illustrated 500 

Nellie  Gates.  The  Mother-in-law. 

Haps  and  Mishaps.  The  Sister's  Triumph. 

FIRESIDE  LIBRARY.    6  vols.    Illustrated 7  50 

Convict's  Son.  Errand  Boy. 

Two  Firesides,  Ann  Ash. 

Don't  Say  So.  Anne  Dalton. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


